


Bleeding Feathers

by Iwovepizza



Series: Black Feathers Series [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angel Frank, Angel Hazel, Angel Percy, Angels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, ArchAngel Michael - Freeform, Archangels, BAMF Annabeth, BAMF Jason, BAMF Nico, BAMF Percy, BAMF Will, Caring Annabeth, Demons, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fallen Angel Nico, Fallen Angels, Forbidden Love, Heaven, Hell, Human Annabeth, Human Jason, Hurt Percy, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason & Percy Brotp, Kids in the Timestamp, Lucifer - Freeform, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Mutual Pining, Past Drug Use, Pining Annabeth, Pining Percy, Protective Jason, Protective Nico, Protective annabeth, Sad Nico, Sad Percy, Sequel, Violence, everyone is a BAMF, hurt jason, pining Nico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwovepizza/pseuds/Iwovepizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been sixty-eight years since Jason had last seen Perseus, Archangel Michael's messenger angel. But one day the black-feathered boy comes knocking on the window bearing horrible news: The five Archangels have gone missing and Heaven has plunged into chaos. Jason is in no condition to fight, and if that's the case, who will?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, my name is Iwovepizza and this is the sequel to Black Feathers. Hope you guys liked it!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

_“Life asked Death,_

_‘Why do people love me,_

_but hate you?’_

_Death responded,_

_‘Because you are a beautiful lie_

_and I’m a painful truth.’”_

_-Anonymous_

\----Ω----

 

 

            Little known to anyone but the residents that lived there, Mercy Hospital had a senior center not far away from the building. Now, it said that it offered a safer alternative to staying at home without assistance, and that many of the people surveyed felt better in here than in their homes, but it was all the same. One could choose to be a shut-in in their own home, or a shut-in in an assisted living facility. Many would select the latter as a form of protection; people are there, right? People to see that you’re dying and can bring you back. It’s better than being left to rot in your bed and have your body discovered by a fuming landlord, right? It was all an illusion, really. People think they can prolong their lives, can have that one last push if they say yes to the nursing home, but in reality, instead of evading death, they are being herded right into it. Nursing homes are where old people go to die.

            Jason knows this very well, has known it ever since he checked into this nursing home five years ago with his beautiful wife, Piper. It smells like what one would expect; old people and despair. People wheeling themselves around in wheelchairs or hobbling along with canes, living in their happy little illusion that there’s not a chance that they might die in the next five minutes. He was entertained for the first three years. He had Piper to talk to, and many, ahem, “volunteers” came to visit him, including Rachel and Nico, who didn’t seem bothered by the fact that they haven’t aged a day for the entire sixty-eight years they’ve known one another. His friends were still going strong in their independence from nursing homes, but Leo, Reyna, and Annabeth were still old as dirt just like Jason was, though Calypso still remained as ageless as ever. Despite this, Dakota and Gwen rested in peace, making sure that the old gang would never be all together in the same place again.

            It wasn’t like this wasn't a shabby place. The other citizens were nice to their fellow old people, the walls were crisply painted in bright colors instead of those ugly pastels and flowery wallpaper that nursing homes usually had, and the carpets were cleaned and vacuumed regularly. The staff was pleasant, and every week a fifth-grade chorus came to sing everyone songs, and even though their voices were shitty, it was still cute as fuck. Jason liked visiting day the best, when Thalia’s two sons and their children came to visit him and Piper, and he could do arts and crafts with them and catch up on how their lives were going. The only problem was that both Matthew and Mark lived with their families on the east coast, and they had neither the time, nor the money to fly back and forth to go to see little old him. Their room was incredibly spacious and cost little to no money, courtesy of Piper’s way with words, and Jason was beginning to spend his retirement fund on stupid shit when they went out for shopping. It explains why an eighty-seven year old has a triple deluxe neon blue beanbag in his room that has no purpose at all except being there when his great nieces and nephews come.

            There was no lawn, though. No outside. People stayed in and watched the city from afar, and the staff forbade anyone from even sitting on the bench that was just outside the front door. They either got out of there in the home’s bus or in a hearse, which was depressing but in a way all too true. Jason refused to become a quote unquote “shut in”, so he always had the windows wide open whenever the temperature cooperated. It felt nice to feel the breeze and hear the sounds of cars honking and pigeons cooing. He and Piper were happy. Tired, but happy. He tried not to think about the way Piper emerged from the shower young and beautiful, the makeup all washed off, while he still remained an old fart.

            The boredom came when the fourth year began. Piper began to grow tired of putting on makeup that made her look old and gray, and hated bleaching her hair. Jason could only win bingo so many times before it became dull since the only prize was a pat on the back and a fruit basket made by Helen. Suck it, Helen. Growing old came with arthritis, horrible gas, and the inability to digest some of the foods he loved when he was younger. Twinkies? Nope. Cheeseburgers? Nuh-uh. All the good foods were off-limits. Piper seemed upset, too, but more so because she was actually young (in body, but not actually; she was trillions of years old, literally older than dirt) enough to eat these things and couldn’t or else the other residents would think she’s the messiah or something.

            “I’m very, very old and I still have my period,” Piper complained one night when she was sure that everyone had gone to sleep. She dragged out her secret stash of tampons from the back of the closet.

            “Eh, still means I can get you pregnant,” Jason replied in monotone without looking up from his online game of Sudoku. He was hit lightly in the back of the head with a tampon box for his trouble, and silence reigned as Piper retreated into the bathroom to shower and handle her lady’s days. As one could see, there was something incredibly wrong with Piper McLean Grace, as well as Nico, Rachel, and Calypso. They were ancient beings, outcasts. Their identities were from a time of adventure and of thigs that he almost thought he dreamed up, from a time when fantasy became reality. When tall tales became truth. From a time that was so incredible that Jason set aside a few hours from his day to look out the window of his room. Sure, he was enjoying the view, but he was also waiting.

            Waiting for an angel.

            He hadn’t seen Percy in sixty-eight years, ever since he launched into the sky on that fateful day from the roof of the Golden Swords’ headquarters. He often wondered if the messenger angel with huge black wings would come back to pay a visit, but he knew that that was highly unlikely. Piper was a fallen angel, and so were Nico, Rachel, and Calypso. Percy couldn’t converse with their fallen or risk becoming one of them, and communication with humans was forbidden as well. They couldn’t go through all that hard work to get his wings back just for him to lose them again. He’d probably settled down with some nice female angel and had a bunch of kids while he flew off into the sunset carrying messages for Archangel Michael himself. Perhaps he’d already forgotten them. The thought immediately plunged him into a foul mood.

            Was Percy so high and mighty that he couldn’t even pay a little visit? He could just drop in to check up on them, right? Or was he too busy being immortal and happy and in Heaven that he couldn’t be bothered? Did he have better and more important things to do than worry about the friends that had saved his life and his wings? (Granted, Jason was the one who’d chopped them off in the first place, but still! He made up for it!) He sat back in his wheelchair and dreamed of the good old days, when he could run a thousand miles and not be tired. When every single day was something new and exciting, not just bingo and Helen’s stupid fruit baskets. When all of his friends were around in one place. When Percy was here. When his sister was still alive. He allowed himself to revel in his memories, since these fantastical ones didn’t have pictures in the hulking photo album that he and Piper flipped through every day.

            A faceless entity with green eyes, black hair, and black wings stood in for Percy, since the memories of the messenger angel’s appearance had long since faded, no matter how hard Jason tried to remember it. Images of huge monsters and spread wings as he fought alongside his friends danced in his head, though he quickly moved on when his thoughts began to linger too much on Asmodeus, the Prince of Hell and the deadly sin lust that had tortured Jason to near insanity. Lilith and Luke’s faces resurfaced, too, but the memories of them were shoved down as well.

            “Watcha thinking about?” Piper asked as she strolled in from the bathroom clothed in nothing but air. Jason looked at her with something akin to worship, and she gave him a soft smile before she began to rifle though her pajama drawer, giving Jason a perfect opportunity enjoy his wife’s deliciously glorious, sculpted ass. There were her wing scars, too, but those didn’t define her. Not in Jason’s book. She was his whole world. Even though she didn’t age like he did, she was still the best wife that anyone could ever have. Ever.

            “Oh, nothing,” Jason answered, albeit wistfully as he wheeled over. “Just about how beautiful you are.” Piper was clothed by then, and she blushed deeply at the compliment, despite the fact that her husband had been staying stuff like that ever since he put a ring on her finger. With Piper’s help, Jason managed to crawl into bed and wriggle under the covers, and eventually the two settled with him being spooned by his wife, which would’ve bothered him had she not been so warm. Piper leaned over and turned off the light, plunging them all into darkness. The cool chill of a late spring night wafted in through the windows, soothing Jason’s frayed nerves and making him feel less like an old guy in a nursing home and more like a young man with his wife in their first house together, despite the fact that goosebumps began to crop up all over his skin. After a few moments of silence, Jason murmured, “Do you still love me?”

            “What kind of question is that?” Piper scoffed, and Jason could hear the astonishment in her voice. “You know I love you.”

            “Yeah, but I’m really old and ugly,” Jason explained, as if trying to convince her that, no, she didn’t love him. “I have wrinkles on my forehead and around my eyes and I’m pudgy and I have fuzz for hair and my voice is raspy and I have _jowls-_ ” Piper shushed him, throwing her arm over his waist.

            “You’re cute,” Piper insisted, rubbing circles on his waist in a gesture of comfort.

            “Yeah but I’m old person cute. Nobody wants to be old person cute,” Jason grouched, glowering at the darkness in front of him almost as intensely as he glowers at his medication.

            “Well you’re not sixteen-year-old hunk cute anymore, that's for sure,” Piper retorted, and the two of them shared a good laugh. “But you’re still the Jason that I know and that’s all I need.”

            “Yeah but you’re super hot and can go marry movie stars but you stay here and act old just for me,” Jason responded, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he concentrated on Piper’s warm breath fanning across the back of his neck.

            “That’s because if I married movie stars I wouldn’t be able to tell them who I really am,” Piper replied affectionately, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Besides, even though movie stars have done awesome stunts on the big screen doesn’t mean they’ve done it in real life. You’re ten times the man that any one of them could ever be. You know awesome fighting techniques, have befriended angels and fallen angels, and went up against Lilith for God’s sake-”

            “Actually, that was the Watchers,” Jason cut in, and Piper let out an aggravated snort.

            “Will nothing convince you that you’re good for me?” she prompted. Jason smiled to himself as he felt himself slowly drift off to sleep.

            “Nope, nothing at all.”

 

\----Ω----

 

            _An angel stood before him, his form so bright that Jason had to shield his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to pry his gaze away from the divine being despite the fact that they felt like they were burning out of their sockets. Wind was bellowing around him, hurting his ears at it roared and screeched, nearly breaking his eardrums in the process. He squinted through the glare, using one hand to shield his eyes and the other to cover one of his ears, and was astonished to see Percy…only not. It had Percy’s facial shape and features, but it certainly wasn’t the Percy that he knew. The messenger angel’s skin was silver, gleaming like polished metal, and his eyes blazed white. Black robes billowed around him, the hem and cuffs stitched with runes that pulsed and shifted as if made of liquid. His hair was a shock of white, ruffled as ever, and if there was a way to look stylish when electrocuted, this was the way to go. Jason tried to call out to him, tried to ask what was going on, but his voice was lost to the wind._

_Percy’s expression was serene, an etching of runes tattooed across his face, right under his eyes, and they matched the ones on his robe. Then Jason looked beyond his form and his mouth dropped open. Spread behind him, instead of the customary ebony feathers, were six arching white wings, and Jason was dazzled for a few moments. Each and every feather was as long as Jason’s forearm, the shapes of them mimicking that of a gull’s, and the pureness and divinity of the entire thing made him want to fall into this Not-Percy’s arms and be protected forever._

_With a jolt, Jason realized that Percy was carrying a long, wicked scythe, whose sharp blade was in the shape of a raven’s head and whose handle was wrapped in a bright red ribbon. It was the only color in the entire image in front of him, and Jason made the chilling comparison to blood as it thrashed in the wind, the frayed edges like splatters of crimson._

_“Your time has come, Jason Grace,” Not-Percy said, and his Not-Percyness was only heightened when a low, husky voice came out of his mouth that sounded way too hot to be Percy. He would’ve dropped his pants right then and there except for the fact that A) He was straight, B) Piper was the love of his life, and C) This angel, whoever he was, would probably fall from grace if he hooked up with a human._

_“Time for what?” Jason asked, dumbfounded._

_“For you to transfer to the next world,” the angel replied matter-of-factly. Jason’s heart dropped like a leaden ball, and he screwed his eyes shut as if this would all go away._

_“H-h-how?”_

_“I’m going to take you there,” Not-Percy replied, his voice sounding more soothing by the minute. He wanted to go with him. He really did. “Do not fear. I will make sure your transition is safe. I’ve tried to assume the form of one of your closest angelic friends for optimum comfort.”_

_“No, how am I going to die?” Jason asked hoarsely. “My wife...she’s sleeping right next to me. She’ll be heartbroken and I’ll never see her again in Heaven because she’s a fallen angel-”_

_“Hush, child,” Not-Percy murmured, putting a finger to his lips in a comforting gesture. Jason fell silent. “Many people I collect still have families, and it is very difficult to part with them, I know, but you must understand that if you choose to stay your soul will be trapped in limbo, and I cannot have that.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “You’ve just died of a heart attack in the middle of the night.” Jason choked on a sob, the joy and wonder from before melting into bitter hate and sorrow._

_“So you’re Death?” he accused, meaning for it to be mocking, but the angel inclined his head._

_“My name is Azrael, and I need you to come with me. Heaven will not allow one of its bravest souls trapped in limbo with the undecided,” Azrael replied firmly._

_“This isn’t fair!” Jason bellowed, and Azrael smiled softly. All of the anger melted out of Jason, replaced with a sort of emptiness. “You get that a lot, don’t you?”_

_“Indeed,” Azrael chuckled, his voice gentle. “Now come, allow me to escort you. Perhaps you’ll be able to meet Percy and your friends Dakota and Gwen. Your sister, too.” Jason’s heart leaped in his chest as Azrael held out one hand. He reached out to grab it-_

_The angel screamed, his body convulsing, and Jason stumbled back, his arms pin wheeling as he fell backwards and onto his butt, watching in horror as Percy’s face began to become crisscrossed with spider webs of jagged fissures, as if he was breaking apart, and Jason could only watch in horror as the Angel of Death exploding into shadows. He realized, with a jolt, that Azrael had been the only one lighting this place up, and he was plunged into darkness._

_“Today’s your lucky day, kid,” a sleek, disembodied voice taunted. He was jolted back into the dream world._

_-_

_A shadow fell over a wide-eyed Nico._

_A scarecrow-like boy grinning, holding a mangled teddy bear as his horns dripped with blood._

_Gwen and Dakota whirling around with identical expressions of horror written on their faces._

_Reyna hacking down a creature unlike nothing Jason had ever seen before, blood splattering across her face._

_Piper letting out a horrible roar and charging forwards._

_Will, fingers trembling and his eyes streaked with tears, knocked an arrow from a bow._

_Annabeth, her eyes glowing gold, raised her hand._

_Percy in bed with a blond-haired main with skeletal wings, his body responding but his eyes looking dead._

_Azrael drenched in blood, his wings secured onto hooks anchored to the walls._

_Calypso scowled and swung her knife in a deadly arc-_

\----Ω----

 

            Jason woke up with a scream, and Piper was immediately upon him, enveloping him in a warm embrace and hushing kisses into his neck. It was just a dream. It was nothing. He was alright.

            Jason thought otherwise.

            Two weeks later, there was a knock on the window.


	2. Only This and Nothing More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support. Just a note that all the chapter titles are from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"

_“I’m not crying because of you; you’re not worth it._

_I’m crying because my delusion of who you were_

_was shattered by the truth of who you are.”_

_-Steve Maraboli_

\----Ω----

 

            Piper had snuck off that night to go buy more sanitary pads for herself. Considering the nearest store that sold them was two city blocks away, she’d been gone for quite a while at that point. It was a beautiful night. There were little stars you could see in the polluted sky of the big city, but the ones that were visible glittered like diamonds, competing with the brightness of the full moon in the navy sky. Jason was up despite the fact that it was curfew and his old body wasn't fit for being up late, and was very much absorbed in his book about Greek Mythology.

            There was a tap at the window.

            Jason didn’t look up, since the tree that was planted outside had branches that occasionally brushed up against the window, and there were also plenty of pigeons who liked to perch on the sill and peck about. There was silence for about five minutes and the tapping came again. Jason seriously regretted closing the windows today, but the chill had been too taxing on his brittle bones and Piper had insisted that they remained closed. Still, he did not look up. Another five minutes passed. Jason was just beginning to settle back down when a hard knocking came at the window, knuckles rapping against glass, and Jason was scared half to death when he looked up to see a humanlike figure perched expertly on the windowsill. Two black, unidentifiable masses shifted behind them, and their face was cloaked in shadow.

            Immediately he was high on alert, and he rose to his feet cautiously, his book lying on the bed, forgotten. There was a jiggling sound and suddenly the window flew open, despite the fact that it was locked from the inside. Blood roared in Jason’s ears and he was afraid that his poor old heart would give out as the figure dropped gracefully onto the floor with a distinct rustle of feathers. He scrambled back, fumbling for any sort of weapon, but he and Piper had never had any use for one. The closest things to weapons in the nursing home were the knives, but those were all the way down in the kitchen.

            Was it a rogue demon coming to avenge Lilith? They’d had a few issues with those during the beginning months. However, at that time Jason had been young, capable, and, most importantly, armed. There was nothing preventing this monster from snapping him like a toothpick, not when Jason had no chance of escape.

            “Um…please, I don’t want to cause trouble,” Jason rasped, holding his wrinkled hands out in a gesture of what hopefully was peace as the figure rose to its feet. It was decidedly male, with broad shoulders and masculine stature, and it was humanoid. All signs pointing to demon. “Listen, I’m really old. What I did to Lilith was ages ago, and it wasn't even me that killed her. No correlation whatsoever. That was the Watchers. Now, you’ll just go on your merry way I’ll just stay here and do my own thing, got it?”

            “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Jason Grace,” said a familiar voice, and Jason inhaled sharply as he assigned a face to it. The figure slowly spread the two shifting masses behind him, which turned out to be two huge, ebony wings that gleamed in the soft light from his bedside lamp. Jason felt tears pricking his eyes as the angel removed the hood to reveal a shock of black hair and bright, sea green eyes, which widened when he finally got a good look at the human.

            “You haven’t aged a day,” Jason croaked, smiling. Perseus, however, seemed a bit shell-shocked. He crossed the room in two long strides and touched the human’s hand gingerly, as if testing to make sure it wasn’t a mirage of some sort, but when he felt the wrinkled skin and the frail bones he knew it wasn’t a trick of the eyes. Jason chuffed a bit, “It’s ok to say it: I’m an old fart.” This, however, did not make the angel laugh, and the room lapsed into an awkward silence. Perseus ruffled his wings, causing black fuzz to twirl to the ground, and Jason couldn’t help but gape. Even after sixty-eight years they didn’t fail to dazzle him. That’s when a bloody tear made its way down the side of Percy’s face, but he quickly wiped it away, though he didn’t give Jason any time to ask questions.

            “This is urgent, Jason,” Perseus held out the scroll to Jason, who took it from the angel’s hands as if it were a bomb that would explode if handled too roughly. The parchment crackled at his touch and he untied the ribbon slowly, allowing it to flutter to the ground. Amongst the ecstasy that was overwhelming Jason’s emotions, there was a twinge of disappointment; Perseus had not descended down to Earth just to visit an old friend, he’d done it because he had to deliver a message, which was his job. Then the realization of the fact that Archangel Michael was Perseus’s boss, as well as the fact that the messenger angel delivered messages from him, hit Jason like a wave. He was holding a letter from an Archangel. An actual Archangel.

            Slowly, Jason unfurled the scroll from its rolled-up form and gazed down at the words that could just have easily been a worshipped and sacred item like the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant:

 

_Jason Grace,_

_It is my honor to be writing this to you, however we must skip the nonsense and get to the problem. The Archangels have disappeared without a trace; one moment they were directing all of Heaven’s activities and the next they were gone. However, not only Heaven is in need of your help; the death angels cannot keep up with all of the deaths that are occurring on Earth due to the fact that their leader, Azrael, is an Archangel as well. If we cannot locate him people who are supposed to be dead will keep on living, and that is not the natural order. I can barely keep all of the garrisons together and angels are panicking, turmoil building to the point where there is a very high possibility that we may have a revolt on our hands._

_Even the Cherubim are completely and utterly dumbfounded at this crisis, and we have interrogated and looked into the minds of every single angel, even the ones imprisoned in the second Heaven, and all are clean. Some had suspected Lilith, but it takes thousands upon thousands of years to crawl out of Tartarus, and therefore when your friend Nico trapped Lilith it was decided that she couldn’t possibly be the culprit behind all this. We hope you help us, though you must gather the old crew due to the fact that, when your abilities are combined, you are unstoppable. Best Regards._

_-M_

            “Is this from Michael?” Jason questioned, looking to the messenger angel for answers. His black-haired friend, however, shook his head.

            “The Metatron,” Perseus replied matter-of-factly, folding his arms over his chest.  When he saw the human’s confused expression, he explained, “The scribe of God. He runs the archives as well as listens to and documents His word.”

            “When you first said that I thought he was some sort of Transformer.” Every attempt at humor was going horribly wrong for Jason, and Percy began to furiously wipe at his eyes, leaving red smears across his cheeks. “Percy something is obviously wrong.”

            “The Archangels have disappeared!” Percy scoffed, holding his thumb and forefinger over his tear ducts to stem the bleeding. “Of course there’s something wrong!” The angel was being terribly snappish, and Jason was starting to become quite nervous. Sure, in sixty-eight years they must have changed and grown apart, but at least the Percy he’d known would have at least been respectful. Now he talked to Jason as if it was below him to do so, as if the human were inferior.

            “No, I mean something’s wrong with _you_ ,” he retorted, starting to become quite agitated. He paced back and forth in his irritation, keeping a wary eye on Percy in his peripheral vision.

            “There is _nothing_ wrong with me, I am the peak of human perfection; I am an angel! There _can’t_ be anything wrong with me!” Perseus bellowed, his whole body trembling. Jason was shocked, and he immediately knew from the tone of the angel’s voice that society in Heaven had thrust those views upon him as soon as he passed through the gates. Before he could object, Percy pushed on, “Listen, I am an angel of God and cannot afford to have feelings towards humans. We _were_ friends, Jason, but that was then. Now I am a servant of Heaven once more, and you cannot expect me to still harbor friendship from all of those years ago. Now, please, there are bigger matters at hand.”

            Jason had had enough. “Get out!” he bellowed furiously, though tears touched his eyes. “Get out of my sight and don’t bother me again!” His voice had cracked horribly, and Jason cursed himself for showing so much emotion. Perseus did not look guilty in the least. He simply stared at Jason expressionlessly.

            “Jason, I wish for you to see reason-”

            “I don’t give a rat’s ass about reason, chicken feathers! I’ve waited sixty-eight years for this moment and here is what I get; a heavenly douchebag who his apparently a ‘peak of human perfection’ that cannot be bothered with thinking about anyone but themselves!” Jason was hysterical now, pure anger and anguish pulsing through his veins. Despite its importance, he crumpled up the note and threw it, where it rolled and stopped right in front of the angel’s sandal-clad feet.

            “You should not have done that, Jason Grace,” Perseus warned lightly, and with a flick of his wrist the note floated into the air and smoothed itself out so that it looked as good as new. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel slight awe at the little trick, but as soon as he met Percy’s impassive stare, his blood boiled.

            “Kiss. My. Ass,” the human seethed. “Go find someone else and get out of my sight.”

            “I don’t appreciate your tone, Jason,” the angel snarled coldly, for once showing the beginnings of irritation. “Nor do I understand why you expected us to be like old pals when I returned.”

            “Well do you know what _I_ don’t understand, feather face? Your indifference. How can you be so uncaring?” Jason’s voice was quiet now, yet full of raw betrayal. “You’re like some sort of machine! What happened to the guy who would crack a joke once in a while?”

            “That was when I was a fallen angel. I was almost human. Now I am above such emotions that drive me towards sin. Do you see what is happening?” Perseus demanded scathingly, pointing to yet another sticky crimson tear that left a red track as it made its way down his cheek. “I am turning into a Watcher. I am the only angel who has ever sinned since I am the only one who has fallen and come back, and had they done the same they would be crying blood, too. But no. I am different. I have been shunned, ridiculed, and singled out due to my experience rather than welcomed as a brave soldier, who was so loyal he turned down free will and left everything for Heaven.”

            “Are you implying that this is _my_ fault, Perseus?” Jason could not believe what he was hearing. When the angel did not reply the human threw his hands into the air.

            “I wanted you to stay! I really did!”

            “And have me go into the Eternal Healing Slumber?” Perseus snapped, balling his hands into fists, though he was careful to make sure the letter wasn't crumpled.

            “What side are you on?” Jason challenged, his words so full of venom that had he not been arguing with an angel his opponent would have flinched.

            “I am on the side of Heaven!” Perseus insisted, his full-blown fury so potent that the water glass Jason had placed on the end table shattered.

            “So you’re saying that if I was bleeding to death and the other angels told you to not save me even though it wasn’t fate, would you _listen_?”

            “One, that would never happen since angels always make sure that fate is never twisted or manipulated, and two, you’re more likely to die of old age first before you bleed to death. But if you say so, the answer is of course! If you turn this offer down you are just as expendable as any other human in this corrupted world!”

            “That’s it, your visitation rights have been revoked. Get out of my room, get out of this city, get out of this country, heck, get out of this _world_ , for Christ’s sake!” When Percy didn’t budge, Jason took the tray that normally held medications and threw it at Perseus. Before it could connect with his skin, the angel held up one hand and the tray stopped in midair, clattering loudly to the ground. He turned his back on the messenger, the betrayal fresh and opening raw wounds in his heart, and hopefully once he turned back around the sorry excuse for a friend would be gone.

He began to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, the back of his wrinkled hand dampening and reeking of salt. His shoulders slumped and began to shudder with his suppressed sobs, because he didn’t know whether the angel had left yet. The treachery was gut-wrenching, but he knew that he’d lived a long, happy life _without_ Perseus for sixty-eight years. He had a beautiful, supportive wife and other trustworthy friends who would understand. He could easily shut down the part of his heart he kept reserved for his feathered friend-turned-foe.

            _Then again all that time you dedicated at least ten minutes every day to looking out the window and praying he would come back. Even when you were in New York, where Perseus would probably never find you, you still prayed for him to come home. Prayed for his return. Then you moved back, but it wasn’t all because your friends and family were here, it was also because if he were to come looking for you this would be the first place he’d search,_ whispered a voice inside his head, who Jason immediately strangled and silenced. He could live without Perseus, and he was sure of it.

            However after a long, drawn out period of silence footsteps from behind alerted the human that the angel had not left.

            Perseus took a deep breath and began, “Listen, Jason-” However, what the messenger was going to say was lost as Jason cut him off.

            “That’s Mr. Grace, to you.” the human told him quietly, all of his newfound hatred for the angel packed into five simple words. Jason had hoped to injure the angel’s feelings, but he knew that he was probably just as poker-faced as ever, which only added more fuel to the fire.

            “You are being quite ridiculous, _Jason_ , we are on first name terms.”

            “No we are not, _Perseus._ Now I’m pretty sure that I gave very specific instructions, but I’ll re-state them for you just in case you didn’t get them through your thick, feather-stuffed head: Go away,” Jason’s voice was deadly, even for an old man’s.

            “Ja- Mr. Grace, please reconsider. If you say yes, we can work together again. As a team like the old days.” Much to Jason’s content there was a note of pleading in the angel’s voice. The human slowly turned around, staring at him. The old man’s eyes, which used to be as sunny as the sky, were now shards of ice, and just as sharp and cold.

            “I would accept, but then again how can I trust a partner who would let strangers decide whether to let me bleed to death or not. You aren’t the angel I once knew, and I am sorry. I’m going to go to the cafeteria to get breakfast, so goodbye, Perseus. It hasn’t been a pleasure.” And with that, Jason reached for the doorknob, hoping that if he put distance between them he’d fight the urge to run to Percy and beg him to come home, but that’s when a hand gripped his shoulder, a strong hand that was not very kind.

            “I’m sorry, Mr. Grace,” Perseus spat out the words as if they were poison. “But I was given clear instructions: this is not a choice.”

            Another bloody tear trickled down his face.

 

\----Ω----

 

            “ _What have I done wrong?!_ ” Perseus screamed at the sky to whoever was listening, shaking his fists. He had flown to an abandoned field somewhere in Kansas, and nobody was around to hear his anguished screams. He had plummeted towards the ground faster than he had ever done before, as fast as his trusty black wings could carry him.

            He’d flown away from the shock and betrayal in Jason’s eyes as he had plucked him from his room like a hawk swooping down to catch a rabbit, tearing him away from everything he’d known and loved. He’d flown away from Jason’s gasping as he struggled to take in enough air whilst Perseus’ powerful wings had lifted them higher and higher. He’d flown away from Jason’s begging to let him see Piper one last time, the begging that he’d mercilessly ignored. He’d flown away from Jason’s pleas for someone to save him as Perseus, with one hand gripping Jason’s shoulder, plucked a feather from his wing and tossed it in front of him. He had flown away from the anguished cry that had been torn from Jason’s throat as they passed the border between Heaven and Earth, as well as his strangled gasp when he realized that he no longer looked or felt like an eighty-seven-year-old. He’d flown away from Jason’s final words as the awaiting angels grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into Metatron’s palace, kicking and screaming:

_“YOU’RE NOT MY FRIEND!” he shrieked, gasping as the thin oxygen levels began to have an effect on him. “YOU’RE A MONSTER! I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU ON THE STREETS TO DIE! I SHOULD HAVE LET THAT HEROIN KILL YOU! I-” Then the shining, gold-trimmed arched doors had slammed shut behind him._

Perseus collapsed onto his knees, burying his face into his hands, and couldn’t care less as the gritty earth dug into his knees painfully. He’d needed to do that to Jason. For Heaven. He’d been instructed to show no emotion, instructed by the scribe of God Himself, and because of that he couldn’t dare to disobey. Besides, the Metatron was the next best thing to Archangels, right? Percy’s thoughts sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

            _You were so excited to see him again, so excited to deliver that one little message. Now the next time you see him he will be trying to wrap his hands around your throat,_ Perseus thought bitterly as his salty tears turned into blood, staining his hands red.

            “I’m sorry, Jason, I’m so sorry,” his words bubbled into sobs, sobs that were full of so much regret that anyone passing by would have broken down into tears just by listening to him cry. “You gave me so much and this is what I gave you in return.”

            “Brother, why do you cry so?” A voice startled him and he whirled around, drawing his sword. However, he saw one of his new companions, an angel of nature named Frank, and lowered his sword. “Your anguish is clogging up every angel’s inner telepathy, so I was sent to ask what the matter was.” Frank and his lover, Hazel, the angel who had filled in the position as Michael’s messenger in Perseus’ absence, were the only two who seemed to have accepted the black-feathered angel’s differences. Even Archangel Michael had been a bit hesitant around Perseus before he’d disappeared into thin air.

            “It’s nothing of importance,” Perseus replied, melancholy laced through his voice as his blood-stained hands fell limply into his lap.

            “Surely such pain can only be due to injury. Shall I fetch an angel of healing? Perhaps they can mend your…” he waved his hand in the direction of Perseus’ hands, “problem.”

            “No thank you, brother. They have already tried and failed to heal me. You cannot heal a Watcher of its curse. That I know.” Perseus’ eyes fell to the ground as he remembered the brave and kind-hearted Will Solace. “With the Archangels gone it is basically like we are lost sheep, and though God is with us He only helps when He feels it is necessary, like a shepherd watching his flock run away.”

            “Perseus, you are teetering on the edge of blaspheming,” Frank cautioned, his expression grave. “Perhaps you should come with me to clear your head.”

            “I wish to be left in peace, Frank, if you don’t mind. I must do penance on my own.” Perseus answered, letting out a defeated sigh.

            “Very well, though I must inform you that you are trying very hard. Very hard, indeed. Just because your brothers and sisters don’t realize that doesn’t mean you aren’t making a difference.” And with that said, Frank began to morph and change until he had taken on the form of a golden eagle. “Goodbye, brother.” And with that he launched into the air, with Hazel hot on his tail feathers. Perseus watched them go until their small forms had disappeared against the star-spangled night sky. He calmed himself down and then, like scissors cutting a string, severed his telepathic link with the other angels. It was only temporarily, but he didn’t wish for them to send another one of his brothers and sisters down to check on him and suggest help.

            And with a mighty breath he let out a shriek to no one, an anguished cry that ripped through the air and caused the branches and leaves of the plant life to shudder wildly. He buried his fingers into his scalp and screamed until he could scream no more, gauging deep lines into this flesh that quickly began to heal.

            “Tell me what to do!” he shouted at the sky, at the God he was furious at for not guiding him. “Tell me what I did wrong!” While Jason had bellowed curses and profanities at him, the other angels had applauded him, telling him that despite the emotions that must have been roiling inside of him, he had made the right choice. In a much smaller voice, Percy whispered, “Tell me so I can fix it.” There was, unsurprisingly, no reply.

            The angel collapsed onto his side, wrapping his wings around himself in a somewhat comforting blanket, and wept for a long time. It didn’t take long for his tears to turn into blood once more.

 

 

 


	3. Rapping at the Chamber Door

_“We are each our own devil and we make this world our Hell.”_

_-Oscar Wilde_

\----Ω----

“Sir, with best regards I do not wish to participate in this endeavor,” Perseus murmured, wringing his hands nervously. Every word that came from his mouth was calculated to a point, and his tone was respectful yet firm, stating that yes, he would partake in the event if he was ordered, but he’d much rather not. His face, aside from the bloody tears that occasionally dripped down his cheeks, was a mask devoid of any emotion whatsoever, though his messy hair, however normal that was, was also dirty, suggesting that he hadn’t had a very good rest the night before. His jet-black feathers, which usually gleamed like the waxed hood of a car, were ruffled and laced with grime. The other angels, however, didn’t question his appearance since all angels, despite the area they participated in; whether they be angels of death or nature, were created to be soldiers, and soldiers needn’t ask questions about their higher-ups, though they did cast wary glances in the messenger angel’s direction.

            The angel whom Perseus was addressing, the Metatron, was nothing short of dazzling. Personally, Percy though Michael to be much more beautiful because his splendor was much more toned down than the Metatron’s, whose magnificence was blazing from him in a way that made it a bit difficult to focus around him. Michael was soft and quiet, like rustling like or trickling water, but the Metatron was a blaring symphony that was like a smack in the face, which wasn't very pleasant. His wings were no different, but they were unique in the fact that, though they were slightly below average when it came to size, there were six of them. Six beautiful, snowy appendages that were adorned with feathers that dazzled Percy if he regarded them from a certain angle, forcing him to avert his eyes. Even his clothing was as in-your-face as humanly possible.

            All of the angels, including Perseus, were wearing simple tunics and roman sandals, along with silvery breastplates, greaves, and belts, which carried sheathes that contained their blades. Of course, the materials used the make the clothing were anything but earthly, and therefore not even a 50-caliber bullet could penetrate the tunic’s material, which looked as thin as cotton. The Metatron, however, wore a complete suit of armor made solely out of a metal that appeared to look somewhat like gold. His long amber hair was braided back, the tips reaching a few inches below his shoulders, however on his head was a golden circlet made up of several interwoven metal pieces. It portrayed thirteen equal circles with lines from the center of each circle extending out to the centers of the other twelve circles, forming what humans called the Metatron’s cube. His vibrant gold eyes matched his circlet as well as his armor, and he held a long spear, engraved with Enochian letters and sigils, in his right hand.

            “As you know, Perseus, your…acquaintance has been less than cooperative in our efforts to help him see reason,” he informed the messenger angel in a rich and smooth voice, his full lips pursing into a thin line. “So we must resort to the last possible option.” The Metatron paused, as if subtly urging him to guess what that last possible option was.

            “Torture?” Perseus whispered thinly, forcing his hands to stay folded. At this, the Metatron seem quite astonished.

            “Absolutely not! Are we not angels whose mission is to protect humanity, Perseus?”

            “We are,” the black-winged angel responded, lowering his head as shame absorbed him, and had he been human his face would have been flushed bright red. The Metatron, instead of looking cross, softened quite a bit. He even chuckled.

            “Though I suppose that does sound like that would be the option, does it not? I suppose we are ready. Shall we walk?” And with that he took off at a brisk pace down the hall, his cape, which was like that of a Roman’s, flying behind him. The other angels hesitantly followed, for it was not a secret that the Metatron could be quite imposing at times. Currently they resided in his palace in the first Heaven, and as they followed their new leader they began to whisper amongst themselves. Of course, the only one not participating in the conversation was Perseus, for his companions, who were supposed to be his brothers and sisters, were nothing but mere strangers to him. Had they not been angels, he would be a bit hesitant to trust them, but then again he still wasn’t sure that he had confidence in them completely, angels or not, after his ascension.

            The Metatron turned down a hall that was so narrow and small that Perseus couldn’t even spread his wings to their full length within the space. Due to the Metatron’s towering figure and his three sets of wings, Perseus couldn’t really see the thing that they were walking towards, but pretty soon they reached a floor-to-ceiling door, embellished with golden plants and peacocks that stood out against the pearly white, marble-esque material. It didn’t look like the door to a prison, but if Jason was behind it than that statement was a bit debatable. Every angel exchanged apprehensive glances as they worried at their tunics, however instead of out of fear like the rest, Perseus was doing it out of guilt, and he quickly wiped away a bloody tear with the red-stained kerchief that he’d started carrying around with him everywhere. The Metatron raised his hands and the doors swung open silently, revealing a dimly lit hall that the scribe of God wasn’t the least bit intimidated by, though his guests trailed behind him like shadows, watching their surroundings with the wary gazes of wild animals.

            This room was unique in the sense that it was dark, much unlike the glittering grandeur of the rest of the Metatron’s palace. They wove through a maze of passageways, each one only illuminated dim florescent bulbs, and it made it difficult for Percy to pick out the details. Their footsteps echoed, and the messenger angel wondered just how large this prison was, and why it was needed if all of the big baddies in Heaven were locked away in the second Heaven. Finally, the hallway opened up into a decent sized room, and the only light came from behind a huge pane of glass that served as the right wall. It was like an aquarium, or like the nocturnal section of the zoo. Percy felt blood begin to roar in his ears.

            “Don’t fret, Perseus,” the Metatron soothed as if he could read Percy’s thoughts, and with the abilities that the scribe had, he didn’t doubt it. “From in here we can see him, but if he looks through this window he sees only his reflection.” The person on the other side of the pane of glass was exactly who Percy had expected, and though it didn’t show on his emotionless face, it seemed to carve a part out of his heart as his gut twisted with the guilt he felt about it all.

            Jason sat in a metal chair, his wrists strapped to the arms and his ankles strapped to the legs. The straps had soft padding, so that if he struggled his wrists wouldn’t bleed. A pillow waited to support his head, however the human was sitting up in his chair, every muscle tenser than ever before. It was so endearing to see him young again; his skin was smooth and flawless, his mop of blond hair back in its original place, however his face was etched deeply with lines of panic an anxiety as his bright blue eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. Some angels had demanded that he be put in the second Heaven for denying servitude, and Perseus shuddered when he thought of what he would see if they had gotten their way. An image flashed before his eyes:

 

            _Jason lying in a pool of his own blood, so still he could just have easily been dead. It took only two weeks in the cell to make him paper thin, served a meal but once every four days, and the portions were small. So very, very small. Blood would drip steadily out of his ears, his nose, and the corners of his mouth, and he was rendered blind and deaf from torture that was supposed to be for fallen angels. His voice would be hoarse as he pleaded for mercy and food, his blood-coated hands clasped together in a begging gesture. He would tug on the legs of the angels that came to feed him, asking for just one more morsel over and over since he would not be able to hear the answer. The angels who fed him would take pity, and those who were rebellious would sneak him extra water and food, but it would never be enough. In six months he’d be dead, starved and tortured to insanity in ways that humans have not yet invented, but still he never said yes, never agreed to spare his own life._

            “Perseus? Perseus!” The messenger angel was ripped from his reveries by the soft and insistent voice of one of the other angels.

            “How may I be of service to you, Persephone?” the messenger asked, forcing a smile onto his face that almost certainly looked like a grimace. Persephone, an angel of nature with a kind heart (though still quite distant and reserved when it came to Perseus) was not all bad. Despite the obvious, yet unvoiced, disapproval of the other angels, she had accepted him and was willing to interact if Percy initiated the conversation, though she herself was unwilling to begin a chat; this time was quite a surprise to the messenger angel.

            “There is blood on your cheeks,” she replied, her tone brimming with concern and her expression pinched. She mimed wiping it away. Perseus thanked her and cleaned himself up as best as he could, though he could see the other angels staring at him as if he were some sort of twisted demon. He didn’t need their condemnation, though. He already hated himself more than any of them ever could. The Metatron turned to them and clapped his hands together, the sound resounding throughout the room and causing several, including Perseus, to flinch slightly. Percy’s wings twitched a little in his nervousness, and anxiety hung thick in the air like a blanket. There were only a handful of angels present, though Perseus was still wondering why he just _had_ to be one of them, and all of them were on edge, their eyes trained onto Jason as if he would suddenly break free of his bonds and kill them all.

            “So, let’s get down to business,” the scribe of God announced, his voice much too jovial, considering the occasion. “Jason Grace, eighty-seven years old, son of Beryl and Zeus Grace. Strong will. Not even we can crack his noggin to see what he’s thinking. Sadly, despite his obvious strengths, he is unwilling to help us with our slight…problem. We have attempted reason, however he was having none of it, so we must resort to the last option,” Everyone inhaled sharply, the room so quiet that one could hear a pin drop, “possession.”

            _NO!_ Perseus screamed internally, and the fact that he didn’t wish to fall from Heaven was the only thing preventing him from screeching it out loud. Possession? Angels would never make an unwilling person their vessel; that was what demons did. It was savage. Barbaric, even. Angels didn’t usually need vessels, since they’d learned to create their own vessels to give themselves a human form. If chosen wrongly, vessels could be burned out completely if occupied by an angel. Perseus had seen many articles in the paper pertaining to teenaged angels who’d fallen because, in some form of play, they’d taken a vessel without testing their limits first and their divine power had burned the poor human to a husk.

            “Giel, please step forward.” One of the other angels, an astronomer from the first Heaven who represented the zodiac Gemini, approached the Metatron hesitantly, like a wary deer picking its way through an open field. His shimmering navy wings were no less than amazing, dotted with white specks that formed the constellation that he represented. His wings matched his slick, black hair. The symbol for Gemini, which looked a lot like the Roman numeral two, hung from a cord around his neck.

            “I have chosen you, since you are one of the few angels in Heaven who is mortally injured; you have lost the ability to fly,” the Metatron stated, and Perseus could see the way that the angel’s eyes lit up like Christmas tree bulbs. “This is true, is it not?”

            “Indeed, sir. I got into a brawl with a demon when stationed on Earth and it ripped up the flesh on one of my wings. The feathers there have been growing abnormally ever since,” he replied, staring forlornly at the very, very bent and crooked primaries on his left wing. Perseus felt overwhelming pity for him, despite the fact that he had been chosen to possess Jason; he knew what it felt like to be rendered flightless, and knew that, when he was possessing Jason’s body, the human’s healing systems would slowly help correct his feather growth.

            “You will not be taking control of Jason Grace, Giel,” the Metatron stated firmly, his eyes hard with determination and his tone thick with warning. “You will not be directing his movements or controlling his thoughts. You will, however, help us with Jason’s behavior, and you’ll soon see how. Now, you must know that since Jason will not be giving out permission any time soon, you will have to enter his body unauthorized. He will try to eject you, his body will try to eject you, but I can assure that if you are as strong as I’d hoped it won’t be a problem. The process of possession, however, will be mind-numbingly painful for Jason, and I hope that you are keen to make sure he doesn’t suffer for a long extent of time. Whilst you are in his body as well as influencing him, his body will be healing you, so you must make sure that he is benefitting. We do not want parasitism, Giel, we’re aiming for mutualism.”

            Perseus couldn’t believe that this was happening. He wanted to scream so loudly Jason could hear him in the next room over. He wanted to drown everyone in his bloody tears and bludgeon them with his wings. He wanted to pull his hair and stamp his feet like a child having a temper tantrum until they let Jason go free, but all he could do was wither and wilt on the inside as Giel squared his shoulders with an expression that was thick with resolve, and there was a stubborn set to his jaw that told Percy that he wouldn’t be forfeiting this opportunity anytime soon. Perseus wanted to pull him over and talk some sense into him, but now that the Metatron had given him some motivation he knew it was impossible; like Perseus when he was wingless, nothing would prevent Giel from flying again. Flying was everything to an angel, and that’s why they didn’t only fall hard physically, but mentally as well.

            “Perseus…are you alright?” Persephone inquired, suspicion laced through her voice as the messenger angel furiously wiped away had his bloody tears with his kerchief, staining it an even darker red, and he was pretty sure that there was one drop for every ounce of heroin he injected into his veins, which, of course, was _a lot._ Despite this, Perseus was pretty sure that she was not, indeed, referring to the sticky red trails on his cheeks, but rather the expression on his face. He was almost positive that she’d never once descended to Earth, and had never really felt many strong negative emotions, but she sure as hell could detect it with the scent of a bloodhound. Perseus nodded absently, not really paying much attention to her despite the fact that it was a bit rude.

            “Are you prepared, Giel?” the Metatron asked, his eyes gleaming like 24-karat gold. Perseus prayed that the angel would say no, however hopeless it was, yet the answer was just as he expected.

            “Indeed,” replied Giel, his face split with a smile that nearly illuminated the room. Perseus felt gut-wrenching guilt for both sides; Jason was going to have to live out the mission he was presented with an angel inside of him, but then again that angel was also healing himself in order to fly once more. Perseus could relate to how elated Giel felt when he was presented with an opportunity to reclaim the breathtaking ability to soar through the skies, careless and free. Perseus was so torn he didn’t know which side he should choose. The side of Heaven, which was more powerful than anything and where he had spent most of his immortal life, or Man, the race that taught him how to feel emotion and how good it felt to not be tethered to a higher power?

            He stood as still as a statue as Giel walked through the wall as if he were a ghost, the lines rippling round his form as he passed through. Jason immediately caught sight of him and began to thrash, writhing like a snake in the tight grip of a secretary bird. However, his bonds held him tightly against the chair, and his blue eyes became even more filled with terror and panic. Perseus couldn’t seem to find his voice as he stepped towards the window, his face a mask as he filled with such horror it caused his head to throb. Giel was talking, trying to calm the incredibly frightened human as if he were a very, very startled animal. Nevertheless, to Perseus and the other angels it was like watching a TV on mute; Giel’s lips were moving but only Jason, the other character in the show, could hear him. His reaction was not at all calm as his mouth opened in a silent scream, struggling even more as his wrists began to develop a large rash from rubbing against the straps.

            Then Giel became still, closing his eyes as he concentrated. Jason seemed a bit curious and momentarily ceased his struggles, giving the angel a peculiar look that was filled with a burning interest. But it was curiosity that killed the cat, and Perseus wanted to slam on the glass- with all his strength until it shattered, but all he could do, like always, was watch. Watch as the edges of Giel’s body became blurred, with the rest of him following in suit. Jason faced him, unafraid, but Perseus begged him to be scared. Terrified. If he only continued to thrash it would slow Giel down, but the human was completely oblivious to Perseus’ silent pleas.

            Then Giel dematerialized, his slightly downgraded, for the safety of Jason, pure form. Perseus had to admit that Giel was beautiful, curling in the air as a translucent, unsolid silk-like substance, shining so brightly that Jason was forced to avert his eyes. He glowed gold around the edges, however he remained a dazzling white around the center, circling around Jason’s body like an eagle. Perseus was glad that Giel attempted to be a gentleman about it. The tip of his formed pecked a little between Jason’s lips, asking for entry, however the human pursed them tightly and screwed his eyes shut, vigorously shaking his head.

            Then Giel was forced to resort to Plan B. His pure form, which looked like nothing but an untouchable mist, slammed against Jason and the human’s mouth opened in an agonized scream. Giel took the opportunity to dive into Jason’s mouth, and Perseus clenched his fists against his sides as the human’s back arched with such intense pain that the angel could almost hear his agonized shrieks. Thankfully it didn’t take long for Giel to insert himself and Jason’s head quickly fell back against the pillow, exhausted, as his skin glowed faintly. Then he opened his eyes, which were once blue, and it was like gazing into a blazing fire. Perseus nearly gasped, but he didn’t wish to show weakness or pity towards Jason in front of the other angels, who were very much pro-Giel. Then the fiery depths dissipated and were replaced by normal Jason eyes, which soon fell closed.

            The Metatron gestured to the assembled angels, and they all slipped through the wall, however solid it was, like Giel had. Perseus could finally hear what was going on, and Jason’s deep, ragged breaths were nothing to be desired. The human must’ve felt a presence, both inside and around him, for his eyes snapped open.

            “Perhaps you should rest,” the Metatron suggested, though the human seemed to be having none of it.

            “What the hell was that?!” Jason sputtered. “I felt like I was being fried from the inside-out! And where’d that black-haired angel go? I deserve answers!” He scanned the faces of all the angels with critical blue eyes, but when they rested on Perseus he practically shrieked. “WHAT’S HE DOING HERE?!” The messenger tried to tell him, tried to say how much he was sorry through his eyes, but Jason refused to meet them with his own. “GET OUT! I WANT THE LITTLE TRAITOR OUT!” The Metatron cast Perseus a pitying look, but Perseus didn’t want his pity. None of it. He just wanted to get this all over with and return everything back to the way it was before he had fallen and come back.

            “Of course, Jason. He will leave. We will all leave, but first you must answer this question before we release you from this room.” At this, Jason seemed to forget all about his rage as he perked up slightly, though his eyes still remained narrowed.

            “I’m listening.”

            “Will you withhold the mission that we have presented to you?” If Jason had been furious before, he certainly was now. His lips contorted into a hideous scowl and his eyes blazed with such anger that some of the other angels shifted nervously and ruffled their wings.

            “N-” Then he choked, beginning to breathe shallowly. The rage was replaced by panic as he tried again, “N-” Then, in a ragged sound that seemed to have been ripped out of his throat, the human choked out the word, “ _YeS._ ” The episode passed and he collapsed back against his chair, trembling. “What’s happening to me?” he begged, looking straight at Perseus for the first time since his capture.

             Making sure that nobody else was watching him, too busy whispering in hushed voices amongst themselves, he mouthed, _I’ll tell you later, but not here. OK?_ and then gave a subtle jerk of his head over to the others. The hard lines in Jason’s face smoothed out as he relaxed, smiling softly and nodding.

            _OK._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient. Don;t forget to leave a comment and kudos!


	4. Nameless Here for Evermore

_“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”_

_-William Shakespeare_

            Jason was not having a good day. He was throwing up constantly, much to the angels’ disgust, and his insides burned, searing pain dancing across his skin. His head throbbed as if he’d been smacked over the head with a club and his eyes watered like he was sticking his head out of a car window. It was torturous, and he could barely stand without his legs turning into Jell-O and giving out. His thoughts raced faster than the speed of light as he tried to self-diagnose himself, however there was no doubt about it; his horrible condition had something to do with the angel mist. He didn’t remember much from that fateful day when Perseus had promised him he would explain later, however he did remember the angel in his cell turning into a gold-tinged mist of some sort, but then things seemed to become a little out of hand. He’d blacked out from the agony.

 

\----Ω----

 

            _Jason was in his old house. Not the good one, the one he and Piper shared in New York, it was the one that Thalia and he had lived in when the blond young man was hunting angels. It was raining outside and lightning shredded the sky like paper being torn apart. Clouds billowed and swirled above like wild horses, their backs arching as their hooves pawed at the air, snorting violent gusts that battered Jason’s sides, though he was standing just behind the threshold. He looked back and saw the one room, which was nothing but a jumble of shadows in the darkness, however lightning flashed once more and it was illuminated for a single moment._

_The room was exactly how Jason had remembered it, and everything was in the exact place he had left them. There were the two cheap dressers he and his sister had found on the side of the road, the two beds that made it so that the floor seemed like a comfier option, the chipped and peeling paint, the wooden floor that would give you splinters, the filthy sink, the table with two chairs that were being held together by duct tape, and the icebox (yes, an icebox; they didn’t have electricity and therefore could not have a fridge.)_

_The sight only brought back terrible memories and he quickly turned back towards the storm. He nearly had a heart attack as he saw a figure standing in front of him, cloaked in shadow. Jason tried to back up, but he found that it was as if his feet were glued to the floor, rendering him unable to move his legs. “Hello?” he called to the figure. “Hello!” There was no answer and Jason found his panic mounting, his heart slamming against his ribcage like a prisoner slamming against the walls of their cell. The unidentifiable silhouette began to walk forward and Jason’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs as the many horror movies he’d watched flashed before his eyes. He was panting like he’d been running away from this thing for a while now, and for some reason he felt just as sore. Then the figure stopped in front of him, a black mass outlined against the pouring rain and clouds._

_Lightning flashed and illuminated their face, and to Jason’s surprise it was the angel that had turned into the golden mist. His slick black hair framed his chiseled face, his eyes glinting as he was plunged back into darkness once more. Jason realized that white speckles on his wings were glowing, forming the constellation Gemini, and a symbol like the Roman numeral two hung from a leather cord around his neck._

_“_ Hello, Jason.” _The angel’s lips were not moving, and the human realized that his smooth, sleek voice was echoing inside his head. He attempted to reply, for a million questions were buzzing around inside his head. Who was this angel and what was that golden mist about? Were they not in Heaven, where Jason had blacked out? Had they teleported? Where were the other angels? However despite this, his desperate attempts to answer proved useless as his voice refused to work. Lightning split the sky once more and the rain poured down more viciously, slamming against the roof as if attempting to rip it apart._

“My name is Giel, and I am very cold. May I come in?” _A jolt raced down Jason’s spine as he regarded the angel, who looked rather pathetic in the rain. Droplets were dripping from his hair and lashes and his plumage was drenched and sodden. The angel was armor less, his whole body wrapped in a simple toga, however it was clinging to his thin frame, completely waterlogged. He was barefoot and Jason could see his toes becoming pink as he wrapped his hands around himself. The angel looked very, very cold and soaked, and mud caked the hem of the once-white toga, covering his shins and feet with a sticky grime._

_Jason took pity on him and he nearly stepped aside to allow him inside, finding that his feet could move again, however he hesitated. He tried to ask why Giel was here, but his vocal cords still denied him the luxury of speech, which he found quite odd. How come that, after the angel, Giel, had asked permission to enter could he suddenly move? And why couldn’t he speak? Jason was sure this was some form of trick, however he looked at Giel, who had begun to shiver, and bit his lip. Even if angels had turned out to be total douchebags, they still didn’t deserve to be left out in a storm. Then the gears began to turn in his head._

_It was not logical that he was in Heaven one moment and back by his old house the next moment, and he was in maximum security; the angels would never dare leave him alone with only one angel as a guard. Jason had been trained to fight angels, and therefore safety for them was in numbers, so Giel couldn’t possibly have arrived by himself. If that was the case, then why weren’t his buddies assisting him? Why did it have to be_ Jason’s _house that he entered, rather than just taking shelter in one of the many dry places around the city? It was quite suspicious, and Jason didn’t feel like being deceived, so rather than stepping aside he stepped back and tried to close the door._

_However for some reason the door, despite the fact that it had the ability to close when he’d last left it, simply would not budge, and Jason could see no item or substance that was preventing it from closing. The human turned to Giel, who was still standing outside and shivering. Could this be some mind trick of sorts? Were they inside his head? Then again, the stinging wind seemed so real as it nipped at his cheeks, the rain chilling as it pricked his skin like tiny needles._

“Please, Jason. May I come in?” _The angel was being incredibly polite about it, allowing the human to mull over his options without a shred of complaint, which was very much unlike someone who was actually stuck in the rain and needed shelter._ There’s something I’m missing, something that’s blatantly obvious. _Jason thought, trying to pick the situation apart. Then he looked behind the angel and his eyes widened. At first glance as well as in someone’s peripheral vision it would seem like a city whose image was begging muddled by the rain, however Jason was pretty sure that cities didn’t_ literally _muddle the city. The buildings were shifting and roiling, their edges blurring as their colors clashed and mixed together, forming new images of buildings and then dispersing again. Unless it was sort of twisted form of Heaven, this was certainly not real, for a place like this certainly didn’t exist on Earth._

This is a metaphor. _Jason realized as it dawned on him. This was symbolism, merely angel attempting to be poetic in order to make a situation be deceivingly less important than it really was. He wondered whether he was simply overanalyzing it, thinking like an average English teacher would, however something told him that he was correct, and through his lifetime Jason had learned to trust his gut instinct. The angel was asking to come into his house, his safe haven. The outside was stormy and wild. Jason was being asked to become a host, a vessel of sorts. He was pretty sure what the answer to that would be._

_Jason turned to Giel, his eyes hardening as he shook his head from side to side. The answer was obvious:_

            No.

            _Giel sighed sadly as his hands slid from his shoulders and dropped to his sides._ “I knew you would figure it out, but please I am begging you; just saying yes is way less painful.”

            Than what? _Jason wanted to ask, but he was still unable to voice his thoughts aloud, but he still shook his head._

“This encounter has only taken a few seconds in the real world, Jason, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to tighten the reigns.” _Jason had no idea what happened next, but the blinding pain was so great he wondered whether he was dying._

_His head exploded with agony, spikes of anguish stabbing at his insides like white-hot blades. His throat went dry and his tongue turned to sandpaper as his eyes felt like they would melt in their sockets. His head swam as he thrashed and squirmed, the pain seeming to last for eternity, and then just like that it stopped._

\----Ω----

 

            Jason slipped out of the memory quietly, listening at the silence as it caused his ears to ring. The angels had not been any less than generous, providing him a gigantic room fit for royalty. The four-post bed had white sheets and pillows, the open top covered by a silky, translucent canopy. It faced the ornate door that was always locked from the outside, which made Jason quite paranoid that a monster would jump out of it as he slept, even though that it was Heaven and there were no monsters to be found. The floor was made of burnished masonry that was cold to the touch, its color, which mimicked the brown of a deer’s coat, matching the cream-colored walls.

            Corinthian columns were placed in each corner of the room, their chiseled acanthus leaves so lifelike Jason could almost see them swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Huge windows arched on either side of Jason’s bed, their points reaching the ceiling that stretched at least as high as a cathedral’s. A stained glass mosaic of the Annunciation depicted Gabriel, wings spread and arms extended, enquiring Mary if she could bear the child Jesus. Sunlight, though Jason wasn’t sure if that was just Heaven’s brightness, filtered through it, though it did not cast shards of colored light onto the ground, signaling that it must’ve been magic. Every once in a while the mosaic would shift soundlessly, forming different scenes from both the Bible and the Torah, though Jason was pretty sure some important parts of Islam were there as well.

            There were no decorations or wall hangings, though the beautiful ceiling kind of compensated for that. A decent-sized pool of water surrounded by stone bricks, much like a shallower well, was placed in the center of the room, its water glinting in the light filtering through the ceiling. Jason supposed that it was for bathing, almost positive that the water filtered itself and, despite the fact that there was no nozzle or drain in sight, could change its levels according to the bather’s wishes. Two large palm plants had been placed on either side of the door, and the human couldn’t be sure whether they were simply regular plants or some supercharged celestial freak plants that were older than humanity itself. One could never be sure when they were imprisoned in Heaven.

            Jason had already considered jumping out of one of the two windows that he could actually reach, however when he peered out of them he saw only empty sky, with the occasional angel flitting in and out of sight in a flash.  Clouds milled below as well as above, and Jason knew that if he tried escaping from there he’d meet certain death, not only from the fall but from the lack of oxygen. He remembered what Perseus had shown him when they had visited Heaven through the angel’s subconscious; the first Heaven was the only one with liquid water. Even though the other Heavens had been on clouds, they had not had other clouds around them, for on that celestial level liquid water could not form. So therefore the Metatron’s palace must’ve been in the first Heaven, Shamayim.

            Speaking of Perseus, the angel had not yet told him the whole story, and it had been quite a bit of time since Jason had last seen him. The human worried that the angel would never arrive, however his fury was a bit less raw than before; at least the angel was trying to fix it. Besides, two guards were stationed outside of the human’s cell, and Perseus couldn’t really relay him any information with prying ears listening in. At the moment Jason wasn’t sure _what_ to think about the angel. Sure, the black-winged feather brain had, indeed, betrayed him, but one look at his face and the human could see just how pained and guilty he was. Jason made sure not to let his wrath fester, and he averted his thoughts to something else, something like the fact that he was very tired.

            In fact, Jason was exhausted and felt like he needed to relax a bit, however with his condition at the moment it was impossible to get comfortable in bed. Glancing warily at the door and wondering how embarrassed he would be if an angel guard walked in, he padded over to the pool in the center of the room, watching the small tiles below twinkle as the water cast wriggling lines of light across their surfaces. He sighed, knowing that he was filthy; he hadn’t bathed since he was inside the hospital, which seemed like an eternity ago.

            He looked at his hands and still couldn’t believe they were real; they were young man’s hands, not the hands of a man in his late eighties. The human, who had been white-haired and balding but a few days ago, was now blond once more and he rejoiced at the feel of his hair under his smooth fingers. Jason took a deep breath, ecstatic as he recalled how he no longer needed an oxygen tank, nor medications of any kind. He still couldn’t get over how he could walk. He sometimes ran laps around his room to make sure everything was still real. He no longer had to be cooped up in a hospital room (well now he was cooped up in another room but that didn’t really count). And the best part: NO MORE ADULT DIAPERS. It was rather embarrassing to have to be changed like an infant, and now he no longer had that problem.

            Desperate to soothe his inflamed muscles, Jason stripped down until his cloths were scattered behind him and he was bare. Still had the six pack? Check. Decent muscle size? Check. Did he grow into a _fat_ old person? No. Check. With a contented sigh he lowered himself into the water, letting it wash over his shoulders as it loosened all of the knots and washed off all of the dirt. As soon as he had touched the surface the water had risen to accommodate him, heating up to a very, very relaxing temperature. Jason was pretty sure that if he wanted bubbles they would begin to form. He dipped his head underwater and resurfaced, wiping the hair out of his face as water droplets trickled down his neck and cheeks.

            It was pretty nice for a cell, and it certainly was better than that last one. Despite the fact that he was so comfortable, Jason still was a bit squeamish. He wished with all of his heart and soul that he could make the nausea go away, but that, however, was one thing that the bath could not do for him. He wasn’t complaining, though, for he was content with what the bath could do, and he sunk down so that his chin was just above the surface, closing his eyes whilst relishing the peace and quiet. That’s when a harsh cry ripped through the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this was a little short but I thought it explained a lot so I made it its own chapter


	5. Tempest Tossed Thee Here Ashore

_“I don’t like to commit myself to Heaven and Hell-_

_you see, I have friends in both places.”_

_-Mark Twain_

\----Ω----

            If someone asked Hazel whether she was jealous of Perseus and Hazel responded with ‘No’, then she’d be lying. Terribly. Yes, envy was one of the seven deadly sins, but as long as she didn’t act on it she’d be fine, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t guilty about it; she was _awfully_ guilty about it. During the black-winged angel’s absence, Hazel had worked incredibly hard to earn herself the title of Archangel Michael’s messenger angel, and on top of that she’d had to work for Michael’s respect since he was still torn up over Perseus’s absence and rarely noticed her at all. Sure, her wings were a bit on the small side, but she was very fast and agile and perfectly capable of delivering messages just as well as Perseus had, which was what Archangel Michael had told her on her first day, one of the only times he had actually complimented her in the beginning.

            The starting months had been incredibly difficult to get past, and she would’ve quit had Frank not urged her to suffer through it and hope that things got better. Sure, there was the fact that it was long hours and she came home exhausted, but by far the largest obstacle she had to overcome was the fact that Archangel Michael was always comparing her to Perseus. The messenger angel was raised on a high pedestal, one that was impossible for Hazel to reach, and it didn’t help that she’d heard whispers of Michael wanting to ask Perseus to be his mate. The Archangel wasn't comparing them consciously. In fact, whenever he and Hazel _did_ talk he was always kind and respectful, but sometimes Hazel would catch him watching her mournfully, as if she was the reminder of all he’d lost, and more than once he’d called her “Percy” by accident and then proceed to avoid her like the plague for the rest of the day.

            “It’s not your fault, really,” Michael’s handmaiden, Zoë, had explained to her bitterly when they’d both had some downtime. “Michael was really torn up about Perseus’s,” she paused, taking in a shuddering breath and visibly trying to hold back tears, “leaving. He didn’t eat for five days straight.” Hazel inhaled sharply, eyes wide with disbelief, and Zoë nodded grimly. “Do you know how awful it was to try and cater to all of his brothers when they came over to try and console him? Hell, even Azrael found the time to visit and offer condolences. Sometimes I would linger outside of the door for a little and listen to Raphael or Gabriel cracking jokes and trying to cheer him up, but he never responded. Never spoke a word. And I just listened to them get more and more desperate as the days passed. Some people thought he was in a permanent state of shock, and that he’d never get up again.”

            “What happened that made him decide to move on?” Hazel asked, trying to sound nonchalant and not wanting to pry, but her voice was brimming with curiosity.

            “Nothing,” Zoë sighed, folding some of Michael’s clothes rather viciously. Hazel was surprised to see a shirt that said: **I’m an angel, you ass** with a picture of an odd man in a trench coat on it. It was clearly well loved, the black fabric having greyed slightly from the many washes it had gone through, despite the fact that Hazel had never seen Michael wearing such a thing. “That’s the problem. He _hasn’t_ moved on. He just decided to get up one day and now he’s just going through the motions. You wouldn’t know, but if you’ve been around him for millennia you’d notice that he’s a little…emptier.”

            “Really?” Hazel asked, a bit dubious.

            Zoë nodded sadly. “He used to be so bright and lively. He’d crack jokes, whistle while he filled out paperwork, and blasted Panic! At the Disco until our ears bled and we were tired of hearing how the groom’s bride is a whore.”

            “Excuse me?” Hazel spluttered, fanning herself a little at the lewdness of that. “Michael listened to such music?”

            “Of course. You think I’d lie?” Zoë prompted, but her tone was wistful. “But seriously, he was so much fun. I’d only listen to Panic! At the Disco for the rest of my life if it meant getting the old Michael back.”

            “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I’m not all that convinced,” Hazel replied guiltily, looking down. The Michael she knew was somber. He smiled brightly and often, but there was a sort of melancholy that clung to him wherever he went, and it seemed to leach the happiness out of everything he did. There were simple things that made him sad, like the color blue and burgers, but it didn’t ruin his day. Then he’d suddenly wake up and he’d either just stay in bed without eating or go into Percy’s old room and cry the day away.

“I can understand,” Zoë snorted. “But back then I swear when Brendon Urie died, Michael was going to rip him away from the Third Heaven and keep him as a personal vocalist and perhaps start a duo with him. Not that Michael is a very good singer.” She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust as if recalling how awful the Archangel’s voice was, and Hazel tried and failed to imagine Michael being lively enough to obsess over a band. As if reading her thoughts, Zoë stated, “How about I just show you?” Two fingers at her forehead and Hazel was plunged into the handmaiden’s memories.

 

\----Ω----

 

            _Zoë was wandering down the hall, her arms full of clothes that were ready to be ironed, and admired the incredible decorations that adorned the palace. It was Christmas Eve, and that was when Michael’s younger brothers took it into their own hands to organize the huge festival tomorrow so the Archangel could take the day off, and it was one of the only times that Michael had actually agreed. Therefore, his entire palace had a lazy day, and it was mostly spent talking animatedly about tomorrow and how the Christ family was going to reenact the stable scene (using a lucky fledgling rather than the actual Jesus himself since the man was too large to fit in the manger now). The palace was decorated with holly, mistletoe, and Christmas trees that dwarfed certain apartment buildings on Earth and were decked with ornaments and tinsel. The entire place smelled like gingerbread and pine, courtesy of the cooks who were preparing for tomorrow’s feast, and it made Zoë incredibly happy._

_Then she heard a particularly loud racket coming from Michael’s room. It sounded like the Archangel was yelling, and it was only after Zoë had come running did she realize the blast of music in the background. It reverberated through the door, and even from out here the angel of nature’s ears throbbed. She had no idea how Michael was able to stand it being that loud, and after squaring her shoulders and coming up with a small rant on how music should not be turned up so high, Zoë opened up the door and was faced with one of the funniest things she had ever seen in her life._

_Michael was standing on top of the bed, clad in sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, and was using a blue plastic hairbrush as a microphone as his speakers blasted out the beginnings of “I Write Sins not Tragedies”._

_The radio blared:_ “What a shame, what a shame the poor groom’s bride is-”

_Michael screamed over the lyrics, “A FUCKING DUSTY-ASS HO! I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN’T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF-”_

            “That’s even worse than the actual thing,” _Hazel breathed, feeling a bit faint._

            “I know, right? But at least he had the ingenuity to experiment,” _Zoë replied, chuckling._

\----Ω----

 

            They slowly withdrew from the memory, and Hazel found that her heart was a bit lighter. Michael wasn't just a downer, he could be fun, too, and she made it her duty to bring out that playful Archangel once more.

            When she told Zoë of her mission, the handmaiden smiled sadly, but hope sparkled in her eyes, “If you could manage to do that, I’ll be your best friend ever.”

            “No promised, though,” Hazel snorted and retreated back to her room. Slowly but surely, an idea was brewing inside of her head. It would be better for everyone; Michael would be back to his happy-go-lucky old self, Hazel would get more respect from him, and the entire palace would seem more like a home rather than a tomb.

            Finally, after months of exhausting trips back and forth across the seven Heavens, several gifts of flowers, carefully planned jokes, and numerous occasions where she hummed “I Write Sins not Tragedies” purposefully in front of him, Archangel Michael seemed to become accustomed to Hazel being his messenger angel. He provided genuine smiles and no longer pretended that she wasn’t there, and for a while everything had been perfect. They sang duets (Zoë was right: despite Michael being an Archangel, his singing voice was less than desirable), forged inside jokes and made memories (like that one time where Michael dismissed his messenger and Hazel had back hand-springed out of the room). Hazel’s boyfriend Frank, an angel of nature, loved her unconditionally, and every angel in her garrison was making bets on when he’d pop the question. Her job was great. Her home life was great. It had been just her and Frank and her exhilaratingly exciting job, no matter how tiring.

            Then Perseus had returned.

 

\----Ω----

 

            _It was a bright day, like any other day in Heaven. Hazel had risen much earlier, since messages didn’t deliver themselves. She soared on the air currents, so high that other angels milling about were merely dots below her. The wind whipped against her golden-brown hair and caused her eyes to water a bit, but she didn’t mind in the least. Then she looked down at one of the large, glittering cities in the Fourth Heaven and saw a large swarm of angels clustering within the square. Despite the fact that if she was distracted she would undoubtedly be late, Hazel’s curiosity got the best of her as she broke into a dive. The bellowing gusts roaring in her ears and her wings pinned to her sides in order to make her body more streamlined._

_Right before she smashed into the ground her wings sprang open like mighty sails, cushioning her landing. All of the angels were whispering excitedly, their mish-mash of wing colors causing the square to look like it was going through an awkward phase. Hazel was incredibly small compared to other angels, who were practically titans, and therefore she could not see what was going on in the center of the gathering. Some had produced notepads and were writing feverishly, giving their page, or in some cases their entire pad, to waiting messenger angels, who seemed reluctant to leave._

_Hazel decided that instead of asking someone and looking like a fool, she’d see for herself what all of this hubbub was. Heaven was rather extraordinary, and it usually made the most incredible, jaw-dropping things seem ordinary, so in turn Hazel wondered what could be so fantastic. Had an angel proposed in the middle of the square? Was a new sword prototype being released? The messenger angel was beyond puzzled, and spread her wings and launched into the air, gliding just high enough that she wouldn’t hit other angels on the head. Others saw her and immediately took to the skies, their excited chatter mimicking that of the babble around them._

_Hundreds of angels had massed and rumors were flying through the air like gunfire, since only the handful of angels in the middle of the group knew what was truly going on. The crowd gave way to a large space in the center, which roughly resembled a circle. In the center a lone angel was lying on his black, clearly having collapsed from exhaustion. Several healing angels bustled around him, checking his pulse and offering him food and water, however the angel did not seem to be responding. At first Hazel could not assign him a name, since his slick black hair had fallen to cover his eyes, however when she saw the two gargantuan wings spread on either side of him, each feather darker than an empty void, she knew that it was Perseus._

_Hazel touched down and pushed past several angels, who all grumbled but did not complain outwardly, until she finally made her way over to where Archangel Michael’s former messenger lay. Two healing angels rushed to shoo her off, however when they recognized who she was they immediately backed off, whispering in hushed tones to one another. Perseus looked even worse up close. His eyes were shut, his mouth slack, and his features as elegant as ever, however when one noticed the fact that there were dark shadows under his eyes, as well as the fact that his cheekbones jut out more than it was considered to be healthy, they began to panic. Not to mention that he was supposed to be fallen._

_“Turn him over,” one of the healing angels, obviously the one who had taken charge, ordered. With tenderness and caution they flipped Perseus onto his stomach, making sure his wings weren’t uncomfortably folded below him. Hazel drew a shaky breath, hers joining the sharpened inhales of the healing angels around her. To the casual observer everything was fine, however then one would notice the fact that there was a horrifying clear seam where the base of the wing ended and the rest began, and upon further inspection they could make out the stitches that were holding them together, slowly disappearing as skin and feathers grew over them._

_“His wings are…stitched on,” the angel next to Hazel choked, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her expression became one of utter horror. Her glittering yellow wings spasmed as if she were going to take off like a flushed pigeon. There was silence among them, only the chatter of the surrounding angels splitting it, when finally the yellow-winged angel let out a terrified screech. It seemed like all of Heaven went silent for just a few moments as the scream hung in the air like a thick smoke, however anxious and terrified whispers began to be exchanged as the crowed began to push and shove to see. A messenger angel, noticeable by his fawn-colored wings, landed next to the head healing angel, bearing a scroll. The healing angel examined it, his straight auburn hair glowing like fire in the sunlight, and his lips pursed into a thin line._

_“I sent my messenger to notify Archangel Michael,” he explained, his voice matching his solemn expression. “He wishes to see him.”_

\----Ω----

Hazel jolted out of the memory, watching as moonlight filtered through the windows of her and Frank’s shared house. She was in her pajamas, her wings folded behind her, and Frank lay at the other end, snoring like a bulldozer as his large, rust-colored wings draped over her. She blew a feather out of her face, smiling softly, but she still felt sour. After Perseus had been brought back to the head Archangel, he had almost immediately been re-appointed as his messenger, a huge sign that Michael had never truly been satisfied with Hazel’s work. In mortal terms, she had been fired, and she knew that angels whispered behind her back at how she was Hazel Levesque, the Archangel-messenger-gone-Newsie.

            Newsies, while also being named after a popular mortal Broadway show, were messenger angels for hire. They stayed within town squares and were available to any angel who needed a message to deliver. If angels were too busy to call upon their messenger angel or simply didn’t have a messenger angel to call upon, they relied on Newsies to deliver their messages for them. It was a rather degrading job compared to the one that Hazel had had, however she was partially glad, since she didn’t have to be away from Frank as much.

            Sighing, Hazel turned to Frank and curled around him, glad to be the big spoon for once, and leaned her cheek against the pillow. _Jobs don’t really matter,_ she thought as Frank’s wings flanked her on both sides, providing as excellent insulators. _As long as I have Frank I am fine._

The next day she received a message from a faceless angel:

            _The Archangels have gone missing._

\----Ω----

 

            Piper didn’t think that when she returned to Heaven it would be like this. She had always envisioned it being a glorious day where the fallen were pardoned by the Creator and everything would be A- ok, but what she hadn’t expected was for them to take her husband first. There she was, minding her own business while carrying her armful of pads to their room, when she found it empty. Of course Jason, being the determined old man he was, refused to do his business in adult diapers, and constantly attempted to go to the bathroom himself, usually resulting in Piper having to pull him out of a rather messy situation.

            Piper rolled her eyes and set the tray down, listening for the telltale grunts that signified Jason was attempting to dislodge himself from the toilet bowl. There were none. That was a bit odd, and Piper’s concern slowly began to rise. The bedsheets were still unmade, however there was no sign of Jason in sight. The door to the bathroom was open and the lights were off, however when she looked over at the window, his favorite spot, her stomach dropped like a leaden ball. A single black feather had settled onto the windowsill, and then Piper knew that the angels had taken him.

            She turned and was not surprised to see two winged humans that certainly weren’t there before. They were her biological siblings, Lacy and Mitchell, and they were standing side by side, wearing matching poker faces. Piper hadn’t even heard them enter. Piper knew she was in trouble, for their faces were solemn and their eyes were not at all friendly, unlike during the sparse handful of visits they shared. Mitchell’s gaze bore inter her, his mouth pursed into a thin line, but Piper was not afraid- she was furious.

            “What have you done with him?” she hissed, her fists clenched at her sides. She wondered whether she’d have to fight them or not, and the thought jabbed at her heart with a white-hot poker. She was fallen, and full-fledged angels were nothing to sneeze at, which was part of the reason why Piper had been slightly impressed with the original Golden Swords’ accomplishments. The fallen healing angel had a bit of a chance when it came to one on one, which was hard enough already, however two angels at once was an impossible feat, not to mention that Piper was in nurse’s scrubs and couldn’t really maneuver well in her petty shoes.

            “Calm yourself, sister, he is safe in Heaven,” Mitchell replied, his expression level-headed despite the fact that his voice could cut through stone. “And no, we are not barbarous enough to kill him in order to get him there; Perseus has merely…transported him.”

            “When will he be back? What are you going to do to him? _What’s going on_!?” Piper demanded, her rage flaring like a wildfire in a field of dry grass.

            The angel’s expression somehow managed to turn stonier, and Piper was reminded that angels weren’t little chubby babies with wings; they were fierce warriors willing to kill on command. “That is none of your concern-” he began, his voice steely, but Lacy, being the most level-headed one in the room, cut him off.

            “Mind your blood pressure, brother, she is merely worried about her spouse.”

            “Married? To a _human_?” Mitchell’s voice was so thick with frustration and disgust that Piper was unsure whether he despised her or was merely suffering due to her bad choices, much like how a mortal brother would when they caught their sibling doing something very, very illegal. He ran his hand through his hair, chewing on his lip, but he did not make any more comments.

            “I decided that, since I’m fallen, there was absolutely no chance of redemption again. So, since the rules no longer applied to me, I settled down. Decided to _help_ people for once instead of watching as wars raged and humans died in cold blood,” Piper replied softly, no longer fuming or even slightly agitated.

            “I can see reason behind this decision, but right now Heaven needs both you and your husband,” Lacy stated gravely, stepping forward. “The Archangels have gone missing and we need Jason as well as his other group of former hunters to bring them back.” For a moment Piper, was aghast, but it didn’t last for long.

            “That is terrible news, sister, and I am deeply aggrieved, however I am no longer connected to Heaven,” she gestured around her to nothing in particular, “Earth is my home now, and it is Jason’s, too. I am used to free will and am afraid that I will not be able to hold my tongue. Who is in charge?”

            “The Metatron,” Lacy replied, a resolute gleam in her eyes.

            “I see why he’d be the choice,” Piper replied, nodding. “However, I do not wish to go back to Heaven.” Lacy and Mitchell exchanged a horrified look, not even the slightest attempt made to conceal it.

            “But why ever not?” the words came out of Mitchell’s mouth in a rush as he ran his hands through his hair, his wings fluttering nervously. They were a stormy blue, almost the exact shade of Lacy’s but a bit lighter, each feather like a cloudy sky. Piper’s wings had been just a bit darker than Lacy’s, and her wing scars ached where Archangel Uriel had torn them out and cast her from the first Heaven. The healing angel had fallen and fallen, with no way to fly, and had hit the earth at forty-five miles per second. She had immediately gone into the Healing Slumber, sleeping for at least five months tops in the middle of a gigantic crater on an obscure part of Mount Whitney. She had walked for days until she had arrived at a small village, her tunic and breastplate almost completely shredded and burned in her descent. The locals had immediately taken her in, and the town soon grew into a large, bustling modern city over thousands of years. Piper never made many acquaintances, due to the fact that she did not age, so she took on multiple identities and even posed as a Cherokee Native American for a couple of decades. She had been alone, so very, very alone, but now she had Jason and no one, not even Heaven, could take him away from her.

            “I enjoy free will. You can think for yourself and not have to take orders from anyone,” she finally replied after her long period of daydreaming. The angels did not reply, nor had they commented on her lapse into silence, however they did seem disapproving.

            Finally, Lacy asked, “But how does one function when orders are not distributed?” Her brows were furrowed to the point of comicalness, and it took all of Piper’s willpower not to chuckle as she explained.

            “Orders _are_ given out,” At this, the angels relaxed a bit, “But free will is the option to choose whether to follow them or not.”

            “You mean…you don’t have to follow commands?” Mitchell looked utterly abhorred. “How does chaos not reign?”

            “Oh, it does reign, but that’s what humanity is,” Piper shrugged a little, “and not all orders come from reliable sources.”

            “Nonsense! Orders are always right and just when coming from a higher power,” Lacy argued, seeming genuinely puzzled.

            “That’s because your orders are divine. Humanity has flaws, and flaws can grow if orders are carried out when coming from an untrustworthy person. If everyone followed orders like angels did, then humanity would be useless, wouldn’t it? A race that is exactly like angels only mortal. Would be a waste of the Creator’s time, if you asked me,” Piper replied. “Free will is also the reason why I’m declining, and right now I order you two to bring Jason back. He has nothing to do with this.”

            Lacy and Mitchell exchanged a look, their momentary relaxation and easygoingness completely dissipating.

“We are sorry, sister,” Lacy began sadly, not able to meet Piper’s eyes.

            “But you do not have a choice,” Mitchell finished, and in a flash Piper was rising into the air, an angel holding each of her arms as they carried her away like raptors carrying away unfortunate mice. Piper had to admit that, since she had not flown in thousands of years, she was terrified beyond belief. And soon there was nothing below her but clouds, much like the ones she had rocketed past as she tumbled from Heaven, destined to roam the Earth forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've updated sooner but there was a huge storm where I live and it knocked out the wifi. Sorry!


	6. Darkness There and Nothing More

_“Your Mind can make a Hell out of Heaven_

_or a Heaven out of Hell.”_

- _John Milton_

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his tub as the screaming continued, and he wondered, belatedly, if this was really a torture chamber and there was going to be an angel coming in any second to wring answers from him. The water hadn’t cooled, surprisingly, and he tried to take comfort in it, but the nausea that lingered suddenly leapt in his chest, and he nearly emptied the contents of his stomach into the water. That would be gross, though, and he managed to choke the bile down before this bath took a turn for the worst. He was scared half to death when, suddenly, the doors were thrown open.

            He had to admit, he squealed like a character in those cartoons when someone sees them in the shower. This time, however, he didn’t have a bathing brush thing to bonk the intruder on the head with, though that would’ve been quite disastrous since that intruder just so happened to be his wife. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly as Piper was shoved into his quarters by a group of very scratched-up and bruised guards, who seemed glad to slam and lock the doors in her face. The healing angel banged on the cold surface her fists, screaming profanities that were so lewd that even a sailor would cringe a little, and Jason’s heart stuttered a bit in his chest as he saw Piper as she’d been before.

            Her hair was no longer white, but rather the glossy brown that it’d been before, and all of the makeup that she usually wore to make herself look old and wrinkled was completely washed away. She’d even had the time to braid her hair back, and her signature feather was in its rightful place once more. It made his heart ache, and he wished he could call out to her (despite the fact that she’d thrown herself into a rage and was completely oblivious to his presence), but instead he had bigger matters at hand. He snapped out of his love-struck trance and scrambled to find a towel, not that Piper hadn’t seen everything already, but there was no towel to be found. Anywhere. It was just him, his birthday suit, and his glasses, which had slid down his nose and were now balancing precariously, and he quickly pushed them back up as his head whipped back and forth in a vain attempt to try and see if there were any escape routes.

            Piper was breathing hard, muttering some very profound things under her breath as she leaned her forehead against the door and clenched her fists at her sides. She seemed pretty pissed, and he wondered if he made his presence known she’d take out all her anger on him. It had happened before, but instead of throwing punches she’d hurled insults, and even if she wasn't actually yelling at _him_ per say, it still felt like she was. Despite this, there was also the possibility of some R-rated lovey-dovey stuff. It wasn't like Jason wouldn’t be on board with it; he loved sex just as much as the next guy, but the only problem was that he was _severely_ out of practice. Your sex life isn’t really that good when you’re an eighty-seven year old man with bad lungs, and you can’t really get laid in a nursing home, where there walls are thin and there are monitors patrolling the halls.

            He was so caught up in his worries that he nearly didn’t notice that Piper had turned around and was rubbing her temples with her eyes screwed shut, attempting to reign in her temper. Jason contemplated whether making a mad dash for the unmade blankets on the bed was reasonable, but that’s when he heard a surprised, “Jason?!”

            “Uh…hey, Pipes…” he greeted rather awkwardly, leaning against the cold edge of the tub and trying for nonchalance. Piper’s mouth had dropped open, and her eyes had gone as wide as saucers as she outwardly and unashamedly ogled him.

            “You’re…”

            “A stupid, idiotic, completely unbelievable moron for getting captured, I kno-”

            “…beautiful,” she whispered, her tone brimming with a combination of awe and disbelief. She began to walk forward, but Jason chuckled nervously and held up his hands to stop her before she got to close.

            “Um…I was in the middle of taking a bath when you…came in,” he explained sheepishly. “Not clothed.” Piper seemed about eighty thousand percent done.

            “I’m your _wife._ I’ve seen it all,” she deadpanned, ignoring Jason’s undignified protest as she stormed toward him and planted a kiss on his lips. He froze up at first, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest, but eventually he smiled softly into the kiss, allowing his eyes to slide closed, and kissed black. They were like that for what felt like years, just kissing unhurriedly, and when Piper eventually drew away he let out an indignant huff. She grinned and lowered herself down onto the edge of the basin, stripping off her shoes and socks and rolling up her pants before dipping her feet in. Jason regarded her nice, delicate feet for a moment and wondered if tickling them was worth the scolding he’d get, but one withering look from Piper was all the answer that he needed.

            Piper took Jason’s head in her hands and ran her fingers over the lines of his face; the crease of his cheekbones, the slight crinkles around his eyes that always appeared when he smiled, and the smooth, beautiful skin, which was unblemished and unwrinkled. Piper’s vocal cords refused to work as she regarded her husband with something that was so much more than awe, and she couldn’t believe that he was young once more. It was like a dream come true, and she played with the small hairs at the nape of his neck in order to anchor herself and make sure that yes, this was all real.

            He was the same age as when they’d first met, and with all her heart she hoped that he’d stay that way for good; she didn’t think she’d be able to bear watching him grow old and frail again, watching him become hunched an unable to function without meds. Now, it wasn’t like she only appreciated Jason for his good looks. He was so much more than that. He was charming, loyal, brave, and everything in between, and she’d still loved him with all her heart when he was old. Even so, whenever she’d looked at him during those years in the nursing home, sorrow had settled on her shoulders and dampened her mood. Jason wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be out slaying beasts and taking names, not hunched over a table playing BINGO and complaining about Helen’s fruit baskets afterwards. He was supposed to be the strong one (or at least have the illusion that he was the strong one), and he most certainly didn’t need to wear adult diapers and need help getting out of and into bed. It had pained her so much to see him like that, and although he hadn’t been suffering, he hadn’t been happy, either.

            Jason seemed to sense that her mind was lingering in a bad place, and he sighed and leaned in to kiss her again, bringing his hands up to settle on her waist. She didn’t care all that much that her shirt was getting soaked and she leaned into the kiss, bracing her arms on his warm, damp shoulders and rubbing circles into the velvety skin there. His lips were plush and healthy, not chapped and thin, and her joy was unparalleled as she drew away to kiss at one of his favorite spots, right under his ear. He seemed a bit shocked, like he'd forgotten about that little sweet spot, and his startled grunt melted into a content little hum as he ran his hands down Piper’s back. She made a trail of kisses across his stubbly jawline before finally bringing their lips back together.

            “I think we should take it easy,” Jason mumbled, the sound reverberating low in his chest, and Piper, though she was surprised and rather reluctant, withdrew, burying her face into the crook of his neck as he stroked her sides. She couldn’t help but listen to the sound of his deep, even breathing, which, unlike before, was not rattling or ragged in the least, and her heart somehow managed to warm even further. Was it just her, or did he sound nervous when mentioning taking it to the next level? When they were newlyweds he’d practically pounce on any chance to get laid, so much that she actually had to make him work for it. Oh, you got a raise? Let’s have a nice night together. You moved all of the furniture into the moving truck by yourself? Good job, wait until we get situated. She even sometimes had to threaten to withdraw from lovemaking in order to keep him in line. Had a drinking contest with Nico and puked all over the floor? He’s a fallen angel; he can’t get drunk, you moron. No sex for a month. Etcetera.

             “I’ll get your clothes, I guess,” she sighed, rising to her feet and searching for the scattered shirts, pants, and underwear. She gathered them into a heap, her hands slightly damp from the water on Jason’s shoulders, but she couldn’t find herself to care as she gathered all of the clothing items up into a heap, bringing them over to the edge of the basin. “But now that you’re young I’m not going to be cleaning up all of your messes. I don’t care whether you’re eighty-seven; you look like and are as strong and healthy as a seventeen-year-old, and you can do it yourself. I’m older than the universe itself, and look how I have to labor over you.” Jason pouted, obviously preparing for his first wife-ranting experience as a born-again man, but Piper cut him some slack and didn’t continue, though she could’ve gone off on a tangent if she’d liked.

            Jason, after balking for a moment, rose from the tub. Waterfalls streamed off of his body and he looked like a god in the light cast by the windows, but nevertheless he seemed a bit self-conscious, and he wrung his hands shyly, looking down. The fallen healing angel didn’t mind his nakedness at all, and she admired his hard muscles and sculpted form, which was much like a Roman statue’s. Her elation somehow mounted, and she handed him his clothes, though she had to admit that she was a little disappointed knowing that those miles of tanned skin would soon be shielded by the fabric. To her great satisfaction, Jason slipped on his grey boxers and seemed to decide that that was enough clothing, and he proceeded to throw the rest into a nearby hamper, where they literally disappeared to the angel maids for cleaning. Piper’s eyes wandered over his chest greedily, from his pecs to his abs (which were surprisingly defined considering he’d stopped working out after the age of forty-five), and trailed her gaze across to the hard muscles of his back, which flexed and shifted as he moved, nearly making her drool all over herself. She smiled as he stretched, and couldn’t resist letting her gaze flick to his V-line, which peeked over the lip of his boxers.

            “Goddamn,” she whispered with something akin to worship filling her voice, and this made Jason look up, a smirk playing over his lips.

            “What was that?” he asked innocently, quirking an eyebrow.

            “I said that you’re the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Piper snapped, and Jason chuckled richly, having clearly heard his wife’s exclamation and simply wishing for her to say it again.

            “Does it ever grow dark here?” he complained, turning to regard the blazing light of Heaven through the arched windows beside the bed. “My eyeballs are getting seared out of my skull.” Piper had to admit, for a cell it was pretty damn beautiful. Heck, it made Saint Peter’s cathedral make a run for its money. She was particularly fond of the stained glass overhead, which had just shifted from the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ to the group of Jews lighting the menorah on the eighth day, their shocked faces revealing that they hadn’t expected the oil to last that long. “I don’t think the angels understand that some of us need to sleep.” Piper raised an eyebrow, confused.

            “You’re tired?” she questioned, worry laced into her voice. Jason seemed confused, and his brow furrowed as he frowned.

            “Yeah, exhausted, why?”

            “Human souls aren’t supposed to get tired in Heaven. It’s paradise; people experience it twenty-four hours a day without even a cat nap.” Piper was beginning to fret, wringing her hands behind her back, but she didn’t want to make Jason even more panicked than he already was. “Are you all right?”

            “I’ve been a bit queasy,” his words came out in a rush, and he seemed to be panicking. He obviously didn’t realize that he wasn't an old man anymore and didn’t really have to worry about the simplest of colds. “Is that bad?”

            _How is that possible?_ she wondered. _Nobody gets sick in Heaven. It’s Heaven!_ Instead of voicing her qualms to her husband, she merely shrugged, crossing the distance between them in two quick strides, taking his hands in hers.

            “Hey, look at me,” Jason looked up, his eyes round and sad, not to mention filled with anxiety. He looked like a kicked puppy, and she was determined to fix that. “It’s fine,” she whispered, her words having the desired reassuring effect onto her husband, “You’re going to be fine.” She enveloped him in a hug, listening to the steady beat of his heart as it slowed from its frantic slamming to a relaxed thrum. He wrapped his strong arms around her and lifted her up off the ground, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently. Piper stripped to her bra and underwear, unwilling to sleep in her sweaty and rather uncomfortable old people clothes, and pulled the covers to her shoulders, Jason sliding in beside her. He pressed her back to his chest, draping his arm over her and relaxing into the covers. Piper didn’t sleep, it was physically impossible for her to do so in Heaven, however after a few minutes Jason was snoring, a soft puff from his nose every time he exhaled.

            Piper was worried about him. His body had to be truly burnt out if he was to sleep in Heaven, but what kind of continuous physical exertion would make him so tired? With all of those thoughts slamming around her skull, she closed her eyes and waited for Jason to wake.

 

\----Ω----

 

            _Jason’s body was working overtime, using the last ounce of its energy to make mental room for his company. Giel felt quite relaxed within his human vessel. He watched out of Jason’s eyes when he needed to and used his ears when necessary, however he liked to just float around in the darkness, warm and comfortable. It was as cozy as bundling yourself up under heaps of blankets when it was cold outside. Giel felt Jason’s body rushing to help heal him, and he could already feel his flesh, very, very, very slowly, shift in order to right his flight feathers. It would take a long time to heal, even if his injury was that small, and he felt bad for Jason as he experienced the aftermath of unconsciously working around the clock._

_Giel blessed Jason with a dreamless sleep as his body worked and worked and worked, finally able to rest after a long day. Giel himself was a bit sleepy, and he listened to the comforting and rather sleep-inducing thunder of Jason’s heart and the rush of blood to all of his systems. Had he been in his physical form he would’ve smiled, slowly drifting off into a deep slumber._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter. Don't forget to leave a comment and kudos! It's incredibly appreciated!


	7. Truly Your Forgiveness I Implore

_“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when_

_they’re watching their whole world fall apart_

_and all they can do is stare blankly.”_

_-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby_

 

 _“_ “Thank God that I was able to bribe my brothers to let me in here,” Perseus panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead. He stretched his wings, twenty feet of glossy black feathers, and folded them behind his back, sitting at the edge of the bath basin to face his two friends. Piper was curled against Jason, her head resting on his shoulders and her feet folded under her body mermaid-style. She was beautiful, her angelic blood shining through her humanlike appearance as her eyes shifted with different colors. Jason was smiling like Perseus had never seen him smile before, and he automatically knew that they were practically soulmates, meant for each other in every way possible despite their big differences.

            “Good for you, Perce,” Jason snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though his tone was rather grateful. More kindly he said, “It’s good to see you. Do you know how hard it is to be stuck in a room with your wife all day every day?” Piper smacked the back of his head playfully as the three of them laughed, but Perseus was aware of the strain in Jason’s voice. There were dark circles under his eyes despite the fact that Piper had said he’d been getting a full eight hours of sleep every day, and that unnerved Perseus quite a bit: One, because this exhaustion shouldn’t be the result of eight hours of sleep, and two because human souls didn’t sleep in Heaven. The third, reason, however, he had been sworn into silence not to reveal; Perseus knew it was Giel that was exhausting Jason, and by the looks of it the angel was working him too hard. He was beyond concerned for Jason’s well-being, but the news he was bringing weighed on his shoulders like Atlas’s burden, a constant underlying gloominess that filled the whole room with a crackling tension.

            “Listen,” the messenger angel growled, his voice low and gruff. “I can’t tell you much because I’ll be thrown out of Heaven if that happens, however I can tell you this; your friends are here as well.” Jason got up so fast that Piper, startled by the loss of his support, could only just in time outstretch her arms to keep her from face planting into the mattress.

            “Really?” Jason demanded, his eyes glittering with a mix of emotions that Perseus couldn’t identify. “Where are they?”

            “In different rooms, but you mustn’t go looking for them lest they trace it back to me. I cannot afford to fall permanently, because that’s when my wings are cut off by Archangel Ur-” Perseus faltered, realizing that Uriel was not around to hack off wayward angels’ wings and punish them by casting them to Earth. He shook his head clear, though his friends undoubtedly noticed the pause, and continued, “I have managed to check up on all of them, and they are all well. Leo, Calypso, Nico, Reyna, Annabeth, and even Gwen and Dakota are all accounted for. We plucked the last two from the masses of the dead, of course, for this purpose.”

            “Thank God,” Jason breathed, running his hand through his hair as Piper coaxed him to sit down again, but mostly since she could lean on him once more and not have to support herself. Perseus watched the exchange, how perfectly they worked together, and he felt a bit hollow and left out. Love sounded great, incredible even, but there was no female angel enticing enough to catch his attention, and there was only two who he'd truly considered taking as mates, though Perseus refused to think about them as of now.

            “Why are they assembling the old gang?” Piper questioned, and Perseus was glad that that information was one of the few things he didn’t have to conceal.

            “The Archangels have gone missing,” cue gasp and then the sound of flesh on flesh as Piper slapped Jason for not telling her earlier.

            “I was sleepy,” Jason mumbled in a rather drowsy and alarming way. Perseus didn’t think he looked too well, and merely being in his presence revealed that Giel was pushing him to the limit.

            Pretending not to have noticed, the messenger angel continued, “The angel in charge, the Metatron, has reflected on your heroic actions in defeating Lilith and Luke, and therefore he has called upon you to find them.”

            “But why us?” Jason questioned, forcing his eyes open and swaying a bit, worrying Percy to an even further extent. “Why can’t the angels just do it?”

            “We’ve checked all around Heaven and sent scouts through the Nine Circles of Hell, however the Archangels aren’t there, leaving Earth as the only remaining option. You, as humans, will blend in more, and if whatever we’re facing is powerful enough to capture not one but five Archangels, it is certainly powerful enough to detect angelic power from a mile away, and by the time we even come close, both it and the Archangels will be halfway across the planet,” the messenger explained, trying to keep it as compact as possible in order not to confuse them. Jason was nodding, but Piper seemed a bit unsure.

            “Nico, Calypso, and I are fallen angels, we must have some sort of residue leftover. Why recruit the two of us?” Perseus pursed his lips.

            “We believe that this certain something may be conspiring with wayward angels, ones that have fallen out of misconduct rather than artificially, no offense,” Perseus explained, casting Piper an apologetic look, which she waved off with one hand. “Your presence may even increase the chance of finding Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Raphael, and Uriel.”

            “Very well,” Piper replied, though she didn’t look too convinced.

            “Can I talk to Jason in private for a moment? It’s a thing we need to clear up.” At Perseus’ words Jason, who was nearly half asleep, sat up straighter, clearly elated; Perseus was going to tell him what had gone on with the blue light and the disappearing angel. Piper didn’t seem too pleased, but with a long moment’s hesitation she nodded, obviously still sour from Perseus taking her husband in the first place. The messenger pulled the blond-haired boy off to the side, as far away from Piper, who’d retreated into the bathroom, as possible.

            “Why can’t she hear what’s going on?” Jason asked, his voice low and rather bewildered. Up close, his normally dazzling blue eyes were bloodshot and glazed with exhaustion. “If I can hear it surely she-” The human didn’t finish his sentence as Perseus placed two fingers on his forehead, and Jason’s eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed against the angel’s chest, fast asleep.

            “Listen to me you little piece of crap,” Perseus hissed into his ear. “Giel, I know you’re in there. I don’t care if your wing needs mending. You’re working Jason to death. And I swear that if you kill him for your own personal gain, neither the Metatron nor I will be very pleased. Just a heads-up to think about during the next eight hours.”

             “I though he needed rest,” he confessed to Piper when he finally gave her the all-clear fro, her spot in the bathroom. The lie came out smoother than honey because it wasn't really a lie at all. Piper didn’t disagree.

           

\----Ω----

 

_“It’s really you,” Michael whispered, awed, and hugged Percy so tightly that the messenger was barely able to breathe. “Fuck, it’s really you. I thought you were gone…”_

_“That’s great,” Percy croaked, very much aware of the fact that Michael’s wings had unconsciously wrapped around Percy along with the Archangel’s arms, which was normally a something that mates did and made him incredibly uncomfortable. Despite the out-of-placeness for the gesture, Percy found himself reveling in it, and even though he was being crushed he managed to bury his face into Michael’s shoulder. “It’s good to be back.” They stood like that for a while before Michael, suddenly realizing what his wings were doing, quickly drew back and flushed a very dark shade of red._

_“My apologies. I…uh…um…didn’t mean to…err…do that,” the Archangel stammered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Your room hasn’t been cleaned yet, so…”_

_“I’ll just use the guest bedroom. The one you use for your brothers’ messengers if they’ve been flying all day,” Percy suggested, grinning. The vertigo he got by standing in the main hall was unlike anything he’d ever seen; he’d been used to it for all his life, but after experiencing the structures that humans considered large but were actually quite insignificant, he couldn’t get over the astounding architecture and the intricate designs. Michael throne in itself was a sight to behold._

_“Um…about that,” Michael hesitated and suddenly became very interested in his sandals. “Hazel’s using that room now.”_

_“Who?” Percy asked, but he could feel dread pooling low in his gut as Michael finally found the courage to look him straight in the eye._

_“The new messenger,” he mumbled, and he looked so guilty that the messenger angel almost didn’t react. Almost. Percy’s heartbrokenness must’ve shown up on his face because the Archangel scrambled to cover for himself, “I mean, I thought you were going to be gone forever…”_

_“I understand,” Percy managed around the lump in his throat, and despite the fact that no tears were being shed just yet, his wings, of their own accord, slumped to the floor. “I get it. You couldn’t wait for me forever and-”_

_“My brothers made me get a new messenger,” Michael blurted, and Percy looked up sharply, shocked. The Archangel composed himself, but his blue eyes didn’t look any less sad. In fact, Michael emitted a sort of melancholy that Percy’s acute sense of smell could pick up, a melancholy that certainly hadn’t been there before he’d went on that whole adventure with Jason. It seemed to cling to him, surround him in a cloud of dreariness, and the only other times Percy had picked up on this sort of thing was with widowers. “I was willing to wait.”_

_“Really?” Percy whispered, awed, and the Archangel nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Wow…thanks. But now that I’m back you can’t just cast this Hazel girl aside.”_

_Michael grimaced. “I am aware.” His face softened as he seemed to recall something, no doubt his new messenger. “Hazel is wonderful. Had you not had several eons’ worth of servitude backing you up, I may have been content with her.” There was something in his voice, though, some unsaid thing that seemed to be perched at the tip of his tongue but he was forcing back. “Perhaps she’ll stand in for you if you’re sick or want a day off.” Percy grinned, joy bursting in his chest as he realized that yes, he was being accepted back into the position as Michael’s messenger. Nevertheless, he felt awfully guilty about making Michael give Hazel the boot, and he was already starting to miss his friends back on Earth dearly, but that was nothing compared to the feeling he got whenever he was here with Michael and doing what he did best: delivering messages._

_The Archangel turned to leave, no doubt to send a messenger to Hazel about the new predicament, but he looked back for a moment. His wings were spread slightly, curving inwards, and if Percy didn’t know any better he’d think it was a flirtatious courting gesture. “Percy?”_

_“Yeah?” he asked. He felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and a feeling that he couldn’t name bloomed in his chest. “What is it?” Michael’s eyes were full of a tenderness that Percy had never noticed before, and he felt cherished just because that gaze was somewhat leveled in his direction._

_“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” And then suddenly it was over. Michael shook his head clear, his expression turning into one of stone. “It’s nothing. Never mind. Farewell.” And just like that he was gone in the flutter of wings._

_“O-okay,” Percy murmured to the room._

\----Ω----

            _“Hey,” Annabeth greeted softly, her hair framing her face in a wreath of golden curls that tumbled over her shoulders. Perseus’ heart ached as he saw her, after six decades of being apart, and he fell into a stupor that could only be classified as heartsickness._

_“Hey,” he replied, which was really the only thing he could work his mouth into saying. He was glad that, unlike with Jason, he hadn’t seen Annabeth in her old age. The messenger angel couldn’t bear to think of her blonde hair streaking with greys and eventually succumbing to them, of her smooth skin growing wrinkled, of her grey eyes losing their luster as she saw and experienced more and more, exhausting her until she withered away into dust. Perseus would’ve had to watch her grow old while he remained the same age, hold her rough hands in his own smooth young ones. Only then did Perseus respect Piper for loving Jason until the end; it must’ve been torture to watch him grow hunched over and weak, unable to perform simple tasks that would be customary for young people. The same could be said for Calypso and Leo._

_“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she laughed, and Perseus felt his legs moving without him commanding them. Her laugh was just how he remembered it, her smile heartwarming in so many ways. “I’ve missed you.”_

_“I missed you, too,” Perseus managed, his voice coming out in a rasp. “It’s been so long…” He embraced her and she clung to him like a lifeline, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, thick and hard with muscle, and trailing past his wings to grasp his hips from underneath his tunic. He in turn wrapped his enormous black wings around her, cocooning the two of them for a single instant, but then he withdrew, much to Annabeth’s well-concealed disappointment._

_“You know that everyone got married, moved on. Leo married Calypso, Jason with Piper, Dakota and Gwen finally getting together, Reyna with a good man named Alex. I never settled down, though,” she told him faintly, her voice just above a whisper. “Always though that one day you’d come back, and when you didn’t I’d think to myself, ‘Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the day,’ but that only triggered an endless cycle of waiting. Nico helped, though, since he never really got over Will becoming a Watcher.” Perseus felt tears touching his eyes, but he blinked them away since Annabeth seemed on the verge of crying as well, and he didn’t want to see her crying._

_“Annabeth…I’m sorry. I know I’m mostly to blame despite my duties as a full-fledged angel, but I can’t believe you’d forfeit settling down in order to wait for me,” Perseus choked, the astonishment clear in his voice._ _“You waited so much that you forgot to live your life.”_

_“Now, Feather Brain, don’t go around riding your high horse and thinking my whole life revolved around you,” there was a quiet exchange of hushed laughter, however the bittersweet tone of it only thickened the things that were hanging in the air, “I dated on and off. The guys never stuck for more than a few months, the longest runner being a guy named Rodger who lasted a year, but I knew that he would propose if we lasted any longer.” Silence reigned for a few moments and Perseus couldn’t find anything to say._

_“I’m genuinely sorry,” Perseus hushed. “But I can’t, you know…” Annabeth was already nodding, her facial features pinched with a melancholy acceptance._

_“No, really, it’s okay. I know,” she replied, though her voice sounded a bit broken. “I just thought that, now that I’m in Heaven, we could,” she struggled to find words, “be together.” Perseus bowed his head, his teeth gritting as the overwhelming unfairness of it all washed over him._

_“Sorry, I am obligated as an angel to mate with another angel and perhaps replenish the population if I’d mated with a female. If we’d settled down and…had children,” he paused, a wistful thought of he and Annabeth sitting on a park bench while their children scampered around on unsteady legs crossing his mind, and continued, “they wouldn’t be angelic, nor would they be human. They would be Nephilim, and if you’ve read any religious literature, the angels went to the ends of the earth to destroy every Nephilim they could find.”_

_“It doesn’t matter,” Annabeth begged, “I don’t care if we can’t have children, I don’t care in the slightest bit.”_

_“I can’t, Annabeth, I’ll fall from grace and then I’ll have to watch you grow old and die while I stay young-” his voice finally gave way, cracking terribly. Annabeth’s face softened and she cupped his face in her hands._

_“I’ve come to terms with it now, Percy, but don’t think for one second to start hitting on some feathery chick while I’m around-”Perseus laughed genuinely, the built-up tension in the air shattering._

_“I’m not even yours and you’re already protective, Wise Girl.”_

_“You’re such a Feather Brain.”_

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for not updating sooner I had this chapter all written out before but I just didn't update because I had a lot of schoolwork (even during the first week!)


	8. From Thy Memories of Lenore

_“Death is not the greatest loss in life._

_The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”_

_-Norman Cousins_

\----Ω----

 

            Nico was pacing like a caged animal, every muscle tense and all of his senses sharp. He felt unwelcome here, and that certainly was true; this was Heaven, a place where he was very sure he wasn’t allowed back into. Even though, technically, he was only artificially fallen, he was pretty sure that the others didn’t take his return kindly; only because he was needed to aid in the mission in rescuing the Archangels, which Perseus had informed him earlier of, was he allowed beyond Heaven’s gates.

 

\----

 

_Nico sat hunched on his bed, nursing a beer, and Rachel sat beside him, looking on with concern that he really didn’t want or care about. He always had a nightly beer or two. It was routine. The room in the Golden Swords’ old headquarters that had been commissioned for Nico had used to be Luke’s, and when he’d first gotten in there, there had been a fine layer of dust that had settled onto everything. There had also been a few of Luke’s belongings there, too. A sword. A shield. A couple of pairs of Converse. Some old T-shirts. Despite this, most of his belongings had been taken to Hell with him when he moved to Lilith’s palace, so the process of clearing everything out hadn’t taken long._

_It was simply decorated now. Plain, cream colored sheets. Beige walls. It was basically a permanent motel room. The furniture was plain, too. A simple dresser with a lamp pushed against the wall, a twin bed pushed against the wall opposite it. Nico didn’t have many pictures to tack up or clothes to put in his drawers, and he had no intention to make this room more homey than he had to._

_“I’m thinking of starting to travel with the group,” Rachel suddenly announced, breaking the silence and startling Nico so much he almost dropped his bottle. At his shocked look, she stated, “There aren’t just fallen angels here. They’re everywhere. I want to take a tour around the states on a search to help more like us, and then maybe I’ll establish a sort of camp somewhere. What do you think I should call it? I’m debating between Camp Half-Blood, as in half angel half rebel,” Nico rolled his eyes at this, “Or Camp Jupiter.”_

_“How about Camp Half-Jupiter?” Nico suggested sarcastically, and Rachel crossed her arms and frowned at him, and he stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation._

_“This is serious, Nico. You’re like, the unofficial second-in-command. I need your opinion before we move,” she griped, sounding exasperated, and Nico quirked an eyebrow at this._

_“We?” he asked. Rachel looked up sharply, her expression no longer pouty but actually contorted into one of genuine concern and irritation._

_“Are you telling me you’re not coming?” she demanded, and at this the fallen angel shrugged, taking a particularly vicious swig from his beer. Rachel looked like she was going to slap it out of his hand, but that would mean that she’d have to clean it up herself since Nico certainly wasn't going to do it._

_“I mean, this is the only place on Earth I’ve ever known,” he told her, refusing to meet her bright green gaze and instead picking at the bedspread, “All of our human friends are near here. What if one of them needs help? What if one of the old farts dies and we don’t know about it until several years later? I can’t be responsible for that. Besides, I still have to visit everyone.”_

_“So Jason and Annabeth and the gang are what are keeping you anchored here?” Rachel prompted. “You know they’d want you to live a little.”_

_“I’m fine just where I am,” Nico stated firmly, starting to realize that this wasn’t just playful arguing or banter. They may just have an argument about this._

_“Really? Are you sure?” Rachel hissed. “Because yeah, you go out and visit your friends. Yeah, you sometimes participate in some of the activities that the other fallen angels and I arrange, but I know the truth. You’re still torn up over Will. You say you just have a beer every night, but that beer turns into two. Then three. Then five. Pretty soon you’re so drunk that you can’t do anything but go to sleep. This happens every. Single. Day.”_

_“Don’t you_ dare _bring Will into this!” Nico bellowed rising to his feet, and Rachel did the same, her glare intense enough to make flowers wither. “You have absolutely_ no right _!”_

_“I can do whatever I want!” Rachel snapped. “You can’t live like this! You have to cope in a better way! Yes, you help out. Yes, you’re doing good in the world, but that doesn’t counteract the fact that you drink yourself to sleep every night!” Deciding that the drink in his hand wasn’t going to help him in this situation, Nico chucked it at the wall next to him and was satisfied to hear it shattering into a million pieces. Rachel didn’t even flinch._

_“WILL WAS MY EVERYTHING, YOU HEAR?!” Nico screeched. “HE HUNG THE SUN IN THE SKY AND MADE THE STARS, AND NOW HE’S GONE! HE’S NEVER COMING BACK AND YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO BRING HIM UP BECAUSE HE’S IN THE GROUND, OKAY?! IN THE GROUND!”_

_“It’s been sixty-eight years, Nico!” Rachel yelled right back, though she was much more calm and collected than Nico, who was slightly buzzed and hella fucking mad. “You have to let him go! Yes, you can remember him! Yes, you can shed a few tears over him, but your life is fucking falling apart and you’re just sitting back and watching it happen!”_

_“What’s it to you, huh?!” Nico roared, balling his hands into fists. “Why do you care?!”_

_“Because you’re my friend!” Rachel cried. “You’re my friend and I care about you and every time I come in here you have a drink in your hand and a look of utter sadness on your face and I need to do everything I can to change that!” Nico, unable to come up with a comeback, ground his teeth together and composed himself._

_“Get out,” his words were soft. Deadly._

_“Nico-”_

_“I’m not going to ask you again.”_

_The door closed._

_Nico reached under his bed and used his bottle opener to pop the cap off another beer, fury simmering beneath the surface. Rachel didn’t understand. She didn’t understand anything. She was the one in the wrong here, not Nico, and that was for sure. A soft rapping came at the door, and a muscle in Nico’s jaw jumped. He placed down his bottle and stormed over to the door, throwing it open with an irritated, “Rachel, I swear-” But instead of Rachel, two angels were standing outside, one boy and one girl. Both seemed stoic, but their eyes portrayed their nervousness._

_“Hello, is this Nicolas?” the boy asked. He seemed like a bear and a human had had a child, and this child was pudgy and had military-cut hair. Even in his armor he seemed more like a big baby man who looked vaguely Asian._

_“Nico,” the fallen death angel bit. “What do you want?” The boy looked like he was about to reply, but that’s when Nico took a close look at the girl angel and the air was sucked out of his lungs. “Hazel?”_

_“It’s been a long time, brother,” Hazel murmured, her eyes gleaming like 24-karat gold as she gave him a one-over. She probably noted the bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin, because she frowned a bit before saying, “You’ve changed.”_

_“As have you,” he told her gruffly. He stepped aside to allow the two angels inside, wondering how they’d gotten into the headquarters without the fallen angel sentries knowing of their arrival. He repeated his question, “What do you want?”_

_“Frank and I need to ask a favor,” Hazel explained, taking a seat on the bed and maing herself at home. The other angel, Frank, simply stood around seeming awkward. So much for divine presence. “The Archangels have gone missing,” Nico’s stomach dropped like a leaden ball, “And we need you and your friends to help us find them.”_

_“What happened?” he asked. “How did this happen?”_

_“I wish we knew,” Frank told him through clenched teeth. “But it’s bad. And the Metatron has requested the help of you and your friends. All of them are being brought to Heaven by different angels as we speak. Care to join them?”_

_Nico stood in shocked silence for a moment before saying, “Sure, I guess.”_

\----

 

            Unlike Percy and his arrival, he didn’t have wings, and neither did Piper or Calypso, but they both had their highly esteemed husbands to help them out, and Nico was alone. They’d dumped him in a room that was a cell in disguise and had left, and God knows how much time has passed. He hadn’t had contact with anyone in what felt like years except for when angels brought him fresh clothes and foods. Even then, not a word was uttered, and the door was always locked afterwards.

            He could’ve had husband by his side.

            No, he shouldn’t’ve thought of that. He tried to concentrate on anything but the sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes that flitted their way behind his eyelids, but it was like telling someone to not think of blue elephants. That’s all they thought about. Nico collapsed onto his knees, his shoulders shaking with the sheer losses that he’d sustained, though he didn’t cry. The boy in his mind wouldn’t’ve wanted that, his angelic face completely preserved even after all of those years. The fallen angel had finally thought that they’d make it out of Hell, that after those grueling times enslaved by Lilith they’d go home and settle down, maybe even adopt a child or two. But no, his partner just _had_ to be attacked by that Watcher, just had to have that monstrosity sink its teeth into his neck and then leave. The worst part was how he had thought that it wouldn’t’ve mattered much. Only after Lilith and Luke were dead did his only love turn into the beast that had bitten him, destined to cry out his sins until he could cry no more.

            “Will,” he said softly, the name like a prayer on his tongue. He hugged himself, keeling over as he finally allowed the tears to fall down his face in a steady flow. The room he was in was very beautiful, but it couldn’t keep his mind off of the blond-haired young man that had been viciously ripped away from him. They were going to get married, possibly beside a beautiful lake or on a mountain, and they would struggle with taxes and jobs and they’d move out of the little craphole that Will had been living in beforehand. They were going to adopt children and raise them as their own, watching them grow up faster than the blink of an eye. They were going to grow old together; well, Will would but Nico would at least be there for him while they cuddled by the TV and watched Doctor Who or something.

            He couldn’t have any of that, because he had to be the one with all of the misfortunes in life, and he wasn’t angry or irritated in the least when he thought about it. Nico didn’t complain, he didn’t raise his fists to the Heavens and scream how he thought it was so unfair, he didn’t blame anyone for it; he simply dealt with it. Someone had to shoulder all of the bad things so that others could enjoy the good things, but he wished that maybe in the next millennia he would be able to shed that burden and finally be among the ones who were successful in life. But how could he be successful when his only love was either a pile of scattered dust or about to become one?

            The light from the windows mocked him, speaking of beautiful days and happy endings, but with a sour expression he knew that his happy ending had been taken away by a single bite.

 

\----

 

_“NO!” Nico screamed as horizontal slits carved themselves over Will’s eyelids. The blond boy screamed and screamed and screamed, writhing on the floor as two bite marks stood out against his neck. Will had been bitten, and now he was to cry out all his sins in pain and agony until he turned to dust. “Will! Will!” Nico was sobbing on his knees beside his boyfriend, who was still shuddering and weeping blood. Then it stopped, and Will rose to his feet, jagged lines carved into his chalk-white face. His expression was almost…serene, and Nico rose with him, desperately clutching his boyfriend’s shoulders as if he could shake the infection out of him._

_“Will…”_

I’m sorry, Nico. I am a monster now, _Will told him sadly, his lips pursing as he wrapped his arms around the fallen death angel, who clutched him tightly as if he were going to disappear into thin air._ I cannot join you in your fight any longer, I must go with them. _He nodded towards the other Watchers as droplets of blood, more than what the other Watchers were crying, splattered onto his shirt._ I am sorry. _Tears were steaming down Nico’s face as everyone watched, horrorstruck. Will drew away from Nico and took his place amongst the other Watchers, who handed him a white cloak that he wrapped around his shoulders._ I am blessed to have been able to love you like no other, Nico. I will remember you until the day I turn to dust, but I also know more than anything. I can see the past, the present, and the future, but I need you to promise me one thing, Nico.

_“Anything, anything!” Nico wailed. Will managed a sad smile as more blood dripped onto his clothes._

Don’t hide. Live. Do not dwell on my memory, love others and give them what you gave to me. _Will sighed, bending his head._ I love you Nico. I wish you could be with me, but the Watchers cannot Turn a fallen angel who has

not been cast into Hell. Again, I will love you always.

 

\----

 

Nico had done what he’d promised Will, helping people, but alcohol had gripped him like a vice. It was the perfect coping mechanism, and he turned to it every night so he wouldn’t be haunted by nightmares of his beloved being torn away from him. He had never fulfilled his promise to live life to the fullest as the years between the present and their departure began to elongate and blur together, though not for a day did he forget his William Solace. He’d helped Annabeth with her heartsickness, knowing exactly what it felt like to love someone who simply couldn’t love you back, and he’d gone out on plenty of dates with plenty of very nice men. He’d gotten a bit tipsy on one of them and it’d turned into a one night stand, the first of many, though he didn’t even remember the guy’s name or what he looked like. One brown-haired boy, Leonard, almost lasted a full year, but he was very chatty and Nico didn’t trust him to keep a secret; if they settled down and Nico didn’t age, Leonard was bound to babble about it to a neighbor or a friend.

            Nico simply couldn’t settle down with anyone. He kept comparing them to Will, the beautifully inexplicable Will, and he’d nitpick them until he didn’t think they’d work out, using it as an excuse to not set another date time. Nico had resorted to doing the best he could at helping others. He handled Annabeth and her broken heart, Piper with her woes about Jason’s ever-failing health, Calypso’s grief when Leo began to use a cane, and Reyna’s sorrow when Alex had passed on. He was the rock that everyone leaned on, the beacon within the fog, and he knew it’s what his Will would’ve wanted him to do.

            He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door creak open and then slowly close, announcing the arrival of someone unknown. The black-haired fallen angel was still kneeling, though as he reminisced about all of the good times the flow of tears began to ebb until it stopped completely. “I miss you, Will,” he murmured to his thin, pale hands, which were folded into his lap.

            “I missed you, too.” Nico’s head couldn’t’ve shot up faster, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he regarded the one in front of him. “It’s been a long time,” Will chuckled, his sandy hair wreathing his face like a pale halo. Nico wouldn’t’ve been surprised if he’d been a Seraphim from God himself, for that’s the only thing that could’ve compared to the beauty he was seeing before him. Will’s cheeks were rosy and healthy, his skin dark as if he’d spent a long time tanning, and his blue eyes sparkled with more life than he’d ever seen before.

            “How-?” Will shushed him in order to prevent him from rambling, taking one knee so that they could be eye level.

            “It took fifty years, Neeks, but I didn’t have as much sins as the other Watchers did. I do, however, have a mortal soul, and once I ascended I hung around in paradise for a while, very nice place by the way, and all of a sudden these angel dudes are taking me to see you.” Nico had missed Will’s smile so much that his chest hurt when the blond flashed his pearly whites, and he dissolved into a babbling mess. There were tears streaming down his face as he lunged at Will, burying his face into the boy’s shoulder and hugging him tight, enveloping himself in his sweet and familiar scent, not knowing that he was speaking until he finally picked up on Will saying, “Shh. It’s okay. I know, I know. Yes, I love you too.” The fallen angel was saying those three words over and over again, almost chanting them like an incantation, and he finally quieted knowing that this was Will, his Will, and he was here with him. Right here. In this room.

            The fallen angel pulled away, smiling softly as he simply sat back onto his heels and looked at Will’s face. Thankfully, things had changed from before. There were no bite marks on Will’s neck, no vertical slashes over his eyelids, and he wasn’t crying blood at all, the signs of him being a Watcher completely erased, as if it’d never happened in the first place. His heartache turned into a warm fuzziness, and that turned into something else. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady at first as his knees almost buckled, but he managed to stay upright. Will rose as well, and soon the fallen angel was pinning him against the wall with his hips, sucking and biting and kissing at whatever looked like skin. Will made a ragged noise, completely caught off-guard, and raked his fingers through Nico’s black hair as the fallen angel latched onto his neck.

            Their mouths slid together as the feeling, from every day Nico wished he could kiss those lips once more, poured into a single connection, and the fallen angel was pretty sure he was devouring the poor blond in the most graceless way that someone could possibly kiss another person. By the time he drew away, Will’s lips were a bit swollen, but he wasn’t complaining in the least as he dragged Nico closer, if that was even possible. Let’s just say that not long after the two of them were on the bed clutching each other tightly and someone’s hand was on someone else’s belt buckle and fingers were brushing over heated skin and someone whispered “Oh _God_ ” and then it simply dissolved into a chorus of murmured names and hushed “I love you’s.”

 

\----Ω---

 

**The Next Day…**

Percy knew that of all the things he expected to see when walking into Nico’s room, this had to be the one thing he hadn’t thought of already. Clothes had been strung over the floor, which didn’t surprise the messenger angel in the least, since Nico wasn’t the least bit tidy, but when he looked over at the bed instead of seeing one mound under the covers he saw two, and boy did those covers look like they’d seen some shit.

            “Um…Nico?” Percy called, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and finally mustering up the courage to walk a little closer, enough to be sitting at the edge of Nico’s bath basin and watching the blankets move as the two beings under it breathed. When there was no response he tried again, louder this time, “Nico?” There was a grunt as the blob of fabric closest to where Percy was sitting began to shift, and the fallen death angel finally emerged from the covers, though the black-feathered young man automatically wished that his lifelong friend had stayed asleep.

            Nico’s hair was mussed, his eyes half closed, and his pale, muscular chest and abdomen made themselves known as they stood out from above the covers, though Percy winced to himself when he saw a hip and part of a V-line make a guest appearance. The messenger angel stayed silent as Nico rubbed his eyes blearily, shoving his hair out of his nearly black eyes, completely oblivious of the fact that he was, indeed, stark naked under those sheets. They even upheld a small, and rather tension filled on Percy’s part, conversation before it seemed to dawn on the fallen angel that he wasn’t dressed.

            “Uh…”

            “Don’t say anything,” Percy told him, rising to his feet as he felt the blush as low as his chest. “I’ll just…” Will, scaring the pants off of Percy since he was supposed to be a Watcher, also decided to show up as he popped out from under the covers and peeped over Nico’s muscular shoulder, not the least bit self-conscious about the state he and his boyfriend were in, though the fallen angel seemed about ready to die as his face flushed the color of tomatoes.

            “Hiyah, Perce,” he exclaimed, not a hint of shame in his voice as he assumed the position of Big Spoon, though secretly, and guiltily, Percy was trying to figure out who’d topped. “Nice wings.” Perseus the very embarrassed messenger angel then proceeded to demonstrate his speed to the apparently not dead Will as he shot out of the room as fast as possible, almost leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a feels attack while writing this


	9. Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before

          

_“I am sending an angel before you_

_to protect you on your journey and lead you safely_

_to the place I have prepared for you.”_

_-Exodus (23:20)_

 

\----Ω----

 

            Perseus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pulling at the very stiff and uncomfortable fabric of the suit he donned. Sadly, the garment, which was blindingly white, was an unspoken requirement for all formal occasions, and this certainly was a formal occasion. His chair had been specially carved for him, with his name in angelic symbols running the length of it. Marks that showed his status, his occupation, his angelic type, and even his wing color were all present as well. His chair as well as others were set up next to a large, semicircular table that was big enough to seat at least one hundred angels, and at the moment the room was full of chatter that warbled and condensed into one mass of ever-present noise. Nobody failed to notice the five large seats that were placed at the center of the semicircle, all of them raised on a dais, however they did their best to try and ignore that. The one at the center, flanked by two other large chairs on each side, was the by far the largest, and it was engraved with Michael’s name in Enochian. The Archangel and his four brothers, nevertheless, were still MIA. Percy found himself longing for Michael, and the loss of his presence was like a hand that struck Percy whenever his eyes lay upon the throne.

            Nobody dared to sit in one of the Archangel’s seats, for fear that the all-powerful seraphs were simply on a long and unexpected vacation and would arrive and zap them with lightning. The Metatron, who was now covering for all five of the higher-ups, had simply taken the next closest seat to the middle. He looked quite dashing in his white suit, identical to Perseus’, though he didn’t seem to like it very much, either, for he kept pulling on and eying his golden lapels as if they were a federal offense. The suits, though, were the least of the angels’ problems, for this was the meeting that would address the issues, their causes (which everyone already knew but were forced to state out of procedure), and how to solve them.

            Malakai, the leader of the Cherubim, and his fiery phoenix, Fawkes (who would eventually become the inspiration for the one in Harry Potter), were also present. Cherubim weren’t your average angels; they had the head of a lion, the torso of a man, and the legs and hooves of a cow, not to mention that they were as tall as buildings and had four wings apiece. Malakai was by far the largest of them, and his amber eyes rakes over the assembled angels, filled with an intelligence that was only rivaled by that of the Archangels and perhaps God Himself. Fawkes let out a shriek, flames dancing across her feathers as she spread her magnificent wings. Perseus was unnerved quite a bit by the phoenix; unlike the heroic wizard’s friend who had healing tears, this Fawkes was willing to rip your throat out with her sharp beak, only forgiving and affectionate to her master, and she was so old that Heaven had lost count of how many times she’d regenerated from her own ashes.

            The Principa in which they were conversing, a rather monotheism-ized version of a Roman Principa, was so utterly gigantic that it would cause even the Empire State Building make a mad dash for its money at the sight of it. Sleek marble columns supported the towering roof, which was so high overhead that clouds could’ve formed in the space between it and the floor. There was a dome in the center of the ceiling that, much like Jason and the other “honored guests’” ceilings had, was made of stained glass. It changed the scenes it was depicting every now and then, and every time it shifted a sound like tinkling chimes echoing throughout the room. Jesus Christ hung from the cross, the candles on the menorah burned on even with so little oil, and Muhammed addressed a crowd of people in billowing robes, their eyes wide as they listened.

            Perseus had nothing to occupy himself with, now that he’d watched the stained glass dome change pictures until it began repeating its cyclic pattern, and his friends were nowhere to be found, not that they’d be sitting next to him in the first place. Despite this, hover, it was nice to know that people who were actually sincere and friendly were nearby, or at least they were hopefully going to be nearby soon. On one side was a very gruff-looking angel of power with a spattering of scars whose wings burned red-black, General Ares of the First Garrison, and the other Olympian-named angels were seated there as well, including Percy’s own father, who governed the Sixth Garrison, but Percy couldn’t catch his eye since he was having an intense discussion with Hephaestus, who led the Eighth Garrison. Ares didn’t seem like one for conversation, since he glared even harder when his gaze met Percy’s, so the black-winged angel left him well alone. One his other side, a very edgy messenger angel fiddled with her brown locks of hair, her golden eyes darting nervously around the very crowded room, and it took him only a few moments to register that she was Hazel, the one who’d covered for him when he’d fallen.

            “Hello,” he greeted, desperately seeking some sort of entertainment. Perhaps striking up friendly conversation with her would relieve some of the very degrading boredom. Hazel jumped at his words, and for a moment she looked around as if he were referring to someone else.

            When she realized that there wasn’t, indeed, anyone else that he could be referring to, she uttered a squeaky, “Hi.” There was a long, drawn-out period of awkward silence for a while, and at the moment Perseus was seriously regretting his decision.

            “So…I hate these meetings, ya know? Make us seem prim, like we have sticks up our asses,” the black-winged angel remarked, and thankfully that seemed to ease the tension, for Hazel chuckled a bit.

            “Yeah, I hate how everyone thinks we’re warriors. Well, we are warriors and can be really nasty if we wanted to, but Gabriel personally told me that he’d told the Virgin Mary, ‘Yo girl, you’re prego with the Lord and Savior!’” she replied, which was immediately followed with more awkward silence at the mention of the Archangel’s name.

            Perseus rushed to fill in the gap, “So are you here with anyone?”

“No, my boyfriend Frank isn’t part of this group. I’m only here because I…” her voice trailed off, and she pursed her lips, brows furrowing. Perseus could sense the discontent rolling off of her in waves, and did his best to try and mend the discussion.

            “I never really got to thank you for covering me, with the work or being a messenger and all,” for a moment the angel swore he saw Hazel’s expression darken even more, but the moment passed just as quickly as it’d come, “But I hear you were amazing.” The girl had noticeably thrown walls up at the mention of the position as Michael’s messenger, and she muttered a thank-you before turning away, her small brown hawk wings twitching angrily. So much for friendly conversation. He quickly brought up his kerchief and wiped away at his bloody tears, praying that none dripped onto his white suit and made a mess of it.

 

\----Ω----

 

            The room went silent as they walked in, all eyes turning to the seven humans and three fallen angels that had entered their midst. All of them were stunning in their own unique way, and though no envy was voiced, it was certainly felt. Jason led the group, his fingers laced with his wife’s as he regarded the semicircular table that seated an uncountable number of angels, all of whom were silent as they watched their approach. He had to admit that the vertigo he was experiencing was insane. Imagine that the floors of the Empire State building had all been removed so that the skyscraper was basically just one big room, and imagine that you were inside of that room and looking up. That was just how big this room was, and it was decorated like a mix between a mosque, a temple, and a cathedral. Where the gigantic stained glass window wasn’t occupying the ceiling, the gabled roof above looked a lot like the interior of the Lincoln Cathedral in the UK, with a similar color palette as well. A pattern of interlocking Stars of David decorated the columns that supported the whole place, and the familiar star and crescent symbols of Islam culture decorated the marble floor in beautiful spiraling lines of black, a big contrast against the stark white.

            He had to admit, he was gawking, and by the looks of his other human companions, they were as well. Even Piper, Calypso, and Nico seemed taken aback by the sheer beauty of the place. He and the other human guys were dressed in unpleasant and discomforting tunics and toga-like things, which were painfully unlike the tailored white suits that the male angels were decked in. Jason wasn’t complaining, though; those suits looked way more uncomfortable than his current outfit, and he considered just how much more discomforting it would be if he had wings. Not to mention that the temperature within the room was slowly beginning to rise, and the male angels looked like they were sweating bullets. Nico tugged at the collar of his old suit from before he’d been fallen, which he’d explained had been delivered to his and Will’s room, and his shoulder-length hair was plastered to his forehead with perspiration, though his blond-haired boyfriend was clearly trying especially hard to not chuckle at his distress. The female angels, on the other hand, were dressed in less restricting clothing. Though they were still suits, at least they could take the overcoat off without having it seem unprofessional. Most had already discarded theirs, and Piper and Calypso were already seeming a bit discomforted.

            Jason turned to his wife and couldn’t help but get over how incredibly beautiful she looked. Her usually choppy hair was curled and fell around her shoulders in waves of beautiful chestnut, and her skin was smooth and clean of all blemishes, with even a bit of makeup touching her features.           However that was nothing compared to her old angelic outfit that had been given to her by reluctant guards. Even though she looked like Heaven’s real estate agent, with the heels, pencil skirt, overcoat, and button-down shirt, (all of which were white) she still was the most incredible thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Leo mooning over his fallen angel girlfriend, and Will was practically frothing at the mouth as he observed his boyfriend’s muscles shift beneath the fabric of, what the blond considered, his incredibly sexy suit. With the severely intense bedroom eyes Will was giving to Nico Jason was ninety-nine point nine percent sure the black-haired immortal was going to get laid, and since he’d overcome his fear of being too out of practice, Jason was practically itching to sleep with Piper. What? He was a guy and had basic needs and urges like any other one. Who cares if he technically was eighty-seven years old? He decided to stop thinking about it before his mind began to wander off into fantasy land.

            The angels were staring at them from a giant semicircular table. There had to be at least one hundred angels in all, and he could see Annabeth anxiously scanning the crowd for a familiar face. He decided to join her in her search, but eventually gave up due to the sheer amount of winged celestial beings that were present. He didn’t think that Perseus could make himself known, either; it would be most unprofessional. Out of all of their group, Dakota and Gwen seemed the least surprised at the beauty of the place, not to mention the beauty of the angels in front of them. Seriously, Jason picked out at least forty absolutely perfect tens, a good portion of them being guys. Heck, he wasn’t even the gay one in the group and he still found himself drooling at bulging muscles and chiseled jawlines.

            “Holy crap, is that a _phoenix?_ ” Leo cried in delight, always being a lover of anything fire. Heck, one could even consider him a pyromaniac if they weren’t acquainted with him. With the excellent hearing that the bird must’ve had, it puffed out its chest and let out a mighty cry, sending Leo into an even more frenzied fangirling. “What’s that lumberjack-looking guy’s name? Hephaestus like the fire god? _Cool!_ And that must be the Metatron. Is he really the scribe of the man upstairs? That’s awesome. I can’t even…And look that guy has the head of a _lion_ , holy hell I’m in Heaven…wait a minute…” Jason chuckled at his close friend’s enthusiasm, and looking around at both his friends and the angels’ faces, he wasn’t the only one that was amused.

            “Nico, so that lion…man…angel…calf thing is called a Cherubim?” Reyna asked, though Jason could see that, besides Annabeth, she was the only one without a partner. Even though Calypso hadn’t been a part of the original group, she was still a fallen angel and could come in handy to the mission to find the Archangels, however Alex had been undeniably human. Heck, he probably hadn’t even been aware of the supernatural during his long, happy life with his wife. He reached out and gave his friend’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and in return he received a playful scowl, though her eyes were thankful.

            “Yes, but that’s technically the plural term. The singular version is cherub, but nobody uses it anymore because human culture has associated that word with those chubby babies. Now it’s just Cherubim, just like how fish is plural and singular,” the fallen death angel replied, and Reyna’s eyes widened in surprise. She slowed her pace to be on Nico’s other side, with Will taking every word greedily, to engage in more conversation.

            “Whoa,” Piper breathed, her voice only barely above a faint whisper. So faint, in fact, that the blond-haired boy nearly missed it. “I’ve never been in here before.” Jason was surprised, and he gave her a sidelong glance as he made the trek towards the much smaller table that was set up for them.

            “Really?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” the fallen healing angel replied, her eyes as wide as saucers as she struggled to take everything in, “These angels have been closely acquainted with one or more of the Archangels. This is like the executive board. Me being a bit of a troublemaker, I was never able to work my way up.”

            “Oh,” was all Jason could say in reply, for they’d just taken their seats. He felt like he was under a magnifying glass as one hundred sets of eyes watched him. The Metatron rose, hushing the slight murmurs that’d been present ever since the humans and fallen angels had arrived, and the whole hall went deadly silent.

            “We have arrived here to issue a quest of immense proportions to our heroes,” he announced, his rich, booming voice echoing throughout the chamber. His gaze raked over everyone, and Jason could only barely suppress a shiver as he saw just how much power and intelligence glittered within them. “Perseus, if you will.” The head angel sat down and nervously a black-haired head rose above the rest. He heard Annabeth inhale sharply, though he really couldn’t blame her; Perseus looked absolutely gorgeous. Heck, Jason had even let go of his ego to admit that he would never look as handsome as Perseus did then.

            His hair was tousled, reminding Jason of that angel from _Supernatural_ ; it was so ruffled that it actually seemed intentional. Chiseled features like that of a Greek statue were turned towards them as he regarded his friends with a calm, measured stare, and his green eyes glittered. In the light they’d lost their sea green color, instead assuming a vibrant shade that was more akin to the color of emeralds, and his skin was tan and smooth, not even the slightest blemish in sight. There was, however, a drop of blood on his collar, and it made the human slightly concerned. That fact was smothered by Jason’s dark jealousy, but then again Perseus was an angel in the literal sense. His angelic demeanor was only boosted as he boasted a white outfit, with his large black wings adding incredible contrast to the starkness. Was it just Jason’s imagination or did he see a ring of light around Perseus’ head? Heck, _all_ of the angels had faint halos, and Jason felt dumb for not noticing them before.

            “We have gathered here to discuss a matter of incredible importance,” the messenger angel boomed, sounding sure. Confident. “This matter is due to the disappearance of our five Archangels; Raphael, Gabriel, Azrael, Uriel, and most of all, Michael,” a pause as tension crackled through the air like lightning, or that could’ve just been the angels of nature in the room, who literally had tiny thunderclouds swirling over their heads like cartoons. “There are many, many problems going on in Heaven, and representatives from each group of angels will come forward to state them. I’ll go first. I am, was, Archangel Michael’s messenger, however Archangel Gabriel’s absence renders me and other messengers unable to be granted safe passage from Heaven to Heaven.” He saw the confused looks on the humans’ faces and explained, “Gabriel’s magical aura was what allowed messenger angels to have a free pass to all of the Heavens; most angels who go to different Heavens have to pass through security checkpoints and whatnot, but Gabriel’s magic made sure that we got a special pass so we wouldn’t be late when delivering messages. Now, we have to go through the old fashioned way, and it takes incredible amounts of time.” Perseus sat, and now that he’d shown his face it was easier to find him among the many other ones. In his stead a scarecrow-like, pale angel of death rose to state his problems.

            He looked strikingly like Nico, and Jason was thrown for a loop at Nico’s shocked murmur of, “Dad?” The fallen angel’s father, however, didn’t acknowledge his son’s existence, and Jason found that Percy’s father was there, too, though he kept casting withering glares in Jason’s direction. It figures; the blond had been the one to chop off Percy’s wings and get them into this whole mess in the first place.

            “Without Archangel Azrael,” Hades announced, “death is crumbling around us. He could handle swathes of souls that have outlived their time on Earth, but now that he’s missing it leaves us death angels struggling to keep up with the massive amount of humans that are expiring. Heck, this Jason Grace kid was supposed to die two weeks before Perseus came to fetch him!” The human seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. In sudden revelation he recalled the dream he'd had just a few days before Perseus's arrival, and how the Archangel had burst into light before he could take Jason to Heaven with him. He clutched Piper’s hand tightly until he was pretty sure that her circulation was cut off, his knuckles turning white, along with the rest of his expression. His friends as well as a few angels cast him pitying and rather concerned glances, and Jason only paled further, though he didn’t say a word. The Metatron saw the discomfort amongst the angels and humans and quickly motioned for the other angels to get moving.

            The fire angels needed Uriel to help deal with casting angels out of Heaven.

            The healing angels were running out of supplies from Raphael, who was the only one who could create certain but necessary ingredients.

            Angels of nature needed Michael’s help to regulate the climate; the thunderstorms in the second Heaven got so out of hand that lightning struck John the Baptist.

            A guardian whose human charge had just died explained how they needed Archangel Gabriel to assign others to new human charges, and to help care for the souls in the Guph.

            Basically, Heaven was crap.

            “We have a source, however,” the Metatron;s voice rose above the frantic babble of panicked angels. “A demon has agreed to help us for a sum of money, and he goes by the name of Octavian.”

            “Octavian?!” all of the former Golden Swords gasped, leaping out of their seats. When they were in the angel hunting business he’d mysteriously disappeared without a trace, and at the time they’d thought he’d confronted an Archangel. That theory, however, was a weak one since they’d learned from Percy how much the Archangels kept to Heaven.

            “You know what happened to him?” she cried. “He’d disappeared!”

            “Yes, and his soul was viciously ripped out of his body by another group of demons and thrust into Hell, where he was corrupted and eventually emerged as the same species as those who put him there,” the Metatron replied as if it were no biggie. “But the question is, are you up for the challenge?” Jason became impossibly paler, the death angel’s words still ringing in his ears, but he steeled himself. With one long look exchanged between the ten friends, they turned back to the angelic court.

            “We’ll do it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE UPDATES YAY


	10. An Ominous Bird of Yore

**أنا بلدي أسوأ كابوس**

**“I am my worst nightmare.”**

\----Ω----

 

            Leo thought he’d never, ever return to this place after he moved to start his shop with Calypso, and he certainly didn’t think that this place would survive for so long. Music pulsed from the speakers, the deep bass slamming and vibrating deep within the ex-angel hunter’s chest. It was the heartbeat that fueled the Whisper, the thing that would just keep on beating and beating, vibrating the floor underneath his feet. Leo had no idea why supernatural creatures frequented these parts, with Jason finding Nico here and all, but that was a question for another time as he skirted the bodies that were thrashing and writhing like snakes on the dance floor. The music was deafening, and Leo could’ve screamed bloody murder and not have been heard by a person standing right next to him.

            “We need to find Octavian,” said Perseus’ voice in his ear, and Leo had to adjust his earpiece to hear him more clearly. “I’m waiting down the block in the car; he’ll sense my presence if I come too close, angelic grace and all. You need to find him, and you need to pay very close attention, since the natural magic of the world, the Mist, will work overtime to hide his…deformities.”

            “What about angel wings? The Mist didn’t work hard to hide those,” came the inquiring tone of Jason, who was somewhere nearby.

            “The Mist doesn’t hide divine properties, since humans don’t need to fear angels, but demons are of utmost unholy nature, and therefore have to be concealed as not to cause mass panic. Demons don’t usually bother humans though; it’s angels that they want skewered,” Perseus replied. “Anyway, you have to peel off the layers, one by one, and you’ll eventually be able to find him. I tracked him here and as far as I know he’s hanging around.”

            “Good to know,” Leo mumbled into the mic and continued to search the faces of the many people crowded into the place, trying to look for something blatantly obvious like horns or something. Sadly, due to his rather embarrassingly miniscule height, Leo couldn’t really see much of anything, really, and it didn’t help that the smoke from the smoke machines was mingling with the clouds of marijuana that was so obviously being smoked somewhere towards the outer reaches. Leo crinkled his nose, wishing he’d had a cold so that his nose would be too clogged up to smell this place, which reeked of sweat, alcohol, pot, and sex, and the Latino boy was glad that none of the prostitutes that frequented this place had approached him yet, because it would be even more awkward now that he had a wife.

            He continued to search high and low, but it wasn't like he could really ask anyone about Octavian since A) he didn’t have a picture to show them and B) half of the people here scared the shit out of him. There was a woman wearing just pasties and a thong as she ground against a leather-clad man with heavy eyeliner, a hulking butch man with a tattoo of a rainbow on his shoulder, and many, many drag queens. Leo threw up in his mouth more than once during his search; there were domiatrixes toting men around on leashes, mostly naked druggies using marijuana in unconventional ways, and boys that couldn’t’ve been more than fourteen offering to suck Leo off. He didn’t see Octavian, though, and he didn’t think how long he could take any more of this as he collapsed onto a peculiarly stained chair in attempt to rest.

            “Calypso?” he asked hesitantly, reaching out and hoping that the fallen angel was able to hear his voice over the babble of voices and the almost painful pounding of music. There was no reply, and Leo waited in silence, closing his eyes and rubbing his head to try and sooth his awful headache. God, he needed aspirin. He sighed, defeated, but after a few more moments of quiet over the line, an agitated voice snapped:

            “Yes, _sweetheart_?” Leo smiled to himself as his wife growled and grumbled over the line, complaining how Leo should be searching for Octavian rather than trying to start a conversation with her. She snapped, “And for your information, I’m currently hunting down a demon, which you don’t seem to think is very important at the moment. Do you know how awful it is to try and flirt answers out of the bartender?”

            “That’s good, hon-wait, WHAT?!” Leo sat bolt upright, rage simmering low under the surface. He clenched his teeth and ground out, “Don’t do that!” He just managed to hear Calypso’s quiet huff of laughter over a particularly vicious bass drop.

            “Don’t worry, babe, he’s gay. He didn’t take the bait,” she replied, humored.

            “Wow,” Leo sighed, “Just how gay is this guy?”

            “Hella,” Calypso scoffed. “He took one look at my wedding ring and asked me if my husband was hot, and if so why I wanted to cheat on him.”

            “He’s almost as gay as Nico and Will,” Leo remarked absently, scanning the faces once more to make sure that Octavian wasn't right next to him. As usual, he didn’t see any signs that anyone could possibly be demonic in origin. There was, however, a woman whose form flickered every so often to reveal a scaly women with two snakes for legs, and Leo tried not to stare as she slithered past. The mortals around her were completely oblivious.

            “That’s pretty fucking gay,” Calypso mused, trying her best to sound philosophical. Leo’s heart warmed at that. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

            “Hey!” Nico cried indignantly. “Nobody wants to hear your little chit chat over this joint network. Especially if it’s about how gay Will and I are. We’re gay. Get over it.” There was a grunt of approval from Will, but the blond didn’t say anything else.

“I agree with Nico,” Reyna snorted, and Leo could almost see her disgusted eye roll as she said this. “No chick flick moments, please.”

            “I second that,” Dakota slurred. The network lapsed into silence and Leo finally rose to his feet to continue his search, but not before he skirted around a very, very intoxicated man that was in the process of flirting with the sexy anime girl that was on the back of another guy’s shirt. He blinked his eyes rapidly, the neon lights hurt his eyes. His awful headache was almost certainly going to develop into a migraine.

            Gwen’s voice startled him after the long pause, and Leo clamped his hands over his ears in attempt to hear her better, since he was just passing the two gigantic amps that were blasting rib-rattling music only a few yards away, “Dakota,” she hissed through very obviously gritted teeth, “I told you to stay away from the bar.”

            “How come you’re surprised?” Jason scoffed, and though he was chuckling a bit he sounded a bit tense and awkward. Leo, being his best human friend and having the ability to read his emotions easily, swore that the blond hissed a string of profanities, though that could’ve just been the fact that the rapper being broadcasted was currently shrieking how everyone should disregard females and acquire currency.

            “You need to learn to be polite! Jason, as your wife I command you to shut the hell up or I will gag you myself,” Piper growled in that commanding tone that, if one wishes to have a long, happy life, should always be answered by ‘Yes, dear.’

            “Ooh. Kinky,” Jason purred (Leo could almost hear the eyebrow wiggle that came along with it), and a chorus of groans nearly broke Leo’s eardrum, and despite this his groan joined theirs. They all shared a small laugh at that, but that’s when Jason blurted, “Piper, I may or may not be by the strip club side of the place and I need your help because I don’t know any of these people and these girls are grabbing me in places and that I don’t want to be grabbed and I forgot my wedding ring in Heaven and I need help.” Leo couldn’t help but laugh a bit, because _wow_ ; Jason had just went from sounding like a headstrong, sassy bachelor to a needy, terrified and whipped husband in about five seconds flat.

            “Are _any_ of you actually looking for Octavian?” came Perseus’ whine, and Leo jolted to attention, his ADHD getting the best of him. It didn’t help that the Whisper was just full of nice little distractions that really were enticing to the eye, and with a sigh Leo continued to shove his way through the crowd.

 

\----Ω----

 

            “Why, hello there,” Gwen announced smoothly, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. She was in the bar part of the Whisper, having attempted to track Dakota down and chew him out in person for drinking on the job, and the music here was dulled, far away from the amps as to make sure that pickup lines and drunken slurs were more comprehensive. The place, of course, smelled like cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, the stench of it hanging low over the place like a fog, but Gwen didn’t really care at the moment, nor did she care about the babble of her friends through her earpiece. All of her senses were zeroed in on the sandy-haired young man before her. At her greeting, he’d looked up and his pale blue eyes had widened to the size of saucers for a single moment, looking just as crazed as she’d remembered. That bout of initial surprise passed, though, and he excused himself from the many women that were practically draping themselves over him (Gwen knew that they were all just hookers or women looking for a good lay, considering that he looked more like a scarecrow than an actual person and was almost as pale as Nico). Despite his cool demeanor she could see the sparkle of panic and shock in his eyes, however slight.

            “Gwen?” he asked faintly, his voice just as nasal and obnoxious as it’d been before, but he didn’t mean anything by it, really; it was just like that by default. The ex-angel hunter could see how tightly his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging half-moons into his palm. She realized, belatedly, that the tips of them were pointed.

            “Octavian,” she replied smoothly, attempting to keep her eyes trained on his face and not on the two spiraling, antelope-like horns that curved from his forehead. The people passing by went right through them as if they were made of mist, but they did suddenly get goosebumps and rub their arms uncomfortably.

“Did she just say Octavian?!” Leo cried through her headpiece, so loudly that Gwen feared that A) Octavian would hear it and B) her eardrum would burst. “Gwen, where the hell are you?!”

“What are you doing hanging around the bar?” she asked coolly, trying not to be obvious and glad that the little piece was hidden behind her hair.

“She’s by the bar!” Jason bellowed, and everyone stated in unison that they were coming to help her. Gwen smiled softly to herself.

“It’s nice to meet you again.” Octavian studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he regarded the hilt of the knife in her boot. She doubted that a regular knife would’ve been able to kill him, but these knives had been gifted to her by angels. They were _made_ to slay demons.

            “Do you see…?” he began slowly, and Gwen cut him off almost immediately.

            “Yes,” she stated firmly, trying to keep her voice calm but laced with warning as to make sure he didn’t attack her. Her low voice, however, was in part also because Octavian wouldn’t be able to hear how it was going to be hoarse tomorrow, or the way it wavered at this new, menacing side of him. Octavian’s confident expression seemed to crumble slightly, but he seemed to give in as he gestured for his former accomplice to follow him to the far reaches of the building. The music, though still audible, was even less prominent here.

            As soon as they sat down, the demon turned to her, his blue eyes sparkling with so many questions. “Gwen, you’re different.”

            “So are you,” she shot back, her voice measured and every word calculated beyond reason. She was attempting to veer away from the truth as much as possible, and she saw the suspicion plain on Octavian’s face. “People change.

            “No, as in it’s been sixty-eight years and you still look like you’re seventeen,” he hissed, and she could see just how far from human he’d become, the gleam in his eyes turning from curious to feral in a heartbeat. Gwen, however, had faced hundreds of angels that were much scarier than him, and even though a part of her was freaking out a bit at the fact that there was an actual demon sitting in front of her, she was really relying on the implication that, since she’d known him previously, he’d refrain from tearing her throat out with his teeth.

            “Let’s just say I’ve been revived in spirit,” she told him simply, a hard edge to her voice. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her reinforcements advancing, and a sly grin snuck across her features. “And we have a few questions for you.”

            “We?”

            “ _Oui,_ ” Annabeth replied as she took a seat beside Gwen, who couldn’t help but marvel at her set jaw, along with her startling grey eyes that were sparkling with determination. Jason, Leo, Reyna, Dakota, Nico, Will, Piper, and Calypso joined the two girls, everyone’s eyes trained on the two spiral horns that jut from the boy’s head. “Answer honestly and nobody will get hurt.”

            “What the hell?” Octavian shrilled, his scarecrow-like form trembling with either rage or fear, maybe even both. “How are you all still alive?”

            “That’s none of your business,” Jason retorted, taking control of the situation as he stepped forwards. He was wearing a purple T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, with a Roman insignia sewn into the pocket that displayed an eagle along with the letters SPQR. She could see why all of those women by the strip club were flinging themselves at him, because Gwen loved her husband very much and even _she_ was drooling at the sight of the blond. Dakota was slightly intoxicated, which is what she could glean from the slight lurch in his gait as she sat down on her other side, but she ignored it as he took her hand and began massaging her knuckles with his thumb. “Anyway, we have a few angels at our disposal so if you wish to keep your life we suggest you sit down, shut up, and listen.”

            At this, Octavian smirked, “The angels won’t kill me. I’m valuable to them.”

            “Of course you are,” Jason scoffed with a roll of his eyes, sarcasm tinging his tone. “And that’s why they sent us to talk with you.” The demon blanched as if someone had slipped bleach into his drink, and his lips pursed into a thin line, though he nodded in understanding. His eyes slid to Nico, Calypso, and Piper, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. Nico narrowed his eyes and the demon quickly averted his gaze, which made Gwen grin slightly. She’d never been too fond of the scrawny guy, and damn near rejoiced when she saw the humbled look on his face.

            “So,” Jason cleared his throat and the demon’s attention snapped back to him. “The Archangels have gone missing.” Octavian didn’t seem very surprised, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Rumors have been going around,” he remarked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. “So how can I be of service of the man upstairs?”

            “Do you have any idea who could be the cause for their disappearance?” Jason demanded. “I mean, you’re a demon and you seem to have strong ties to the underground network.” Octavian preened at the praise, and Gwen rolled her eyes so far up into her head that if she’d gone any farther they would’ve gone into her skull. Octavian rubbed his chin for a moment.

            “Well there aren’t many things powerful enough to really capture the Archangels, and one is their pappy. I mean, I guess the Princes of Hell could take down one if they teamed up and really tried, but never all of the Archangels at once.” Jason tensed at the mention of the Princes of Hell, and Piper put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Well, if all of the other angels ganged up on them then I suppose they could take them hostage, but people would notice a huge chunk of Heaven’s ranks going AWOL. That really leaves only one more option…oh no.” The demon looked about to faint as the realization dawned on him, and all of the assembled people murmured nervously amongst themselves.

            “Who is the other one….?” Jason’s voice trailed off, and the blond seemed as if he were going to bolt, tense all over as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

            “This can’t be good,” Percy murmured through the headpiece, having been listening in on the whole thing.

            A pause, and Octavian looked as if he’d be struck by lightning if he said the name aloud, gazing around warily as if they were being listened in on. There were only three other people in the area, and all were incredibly, incredibly drunk. After he deemed the place safe, the demon leaned in, and everyone else leaned in with him.

            “Lucifer,” he whispered. Thunder rumbled outside.

 

\----Ω----

            _At first there was only silence. And nothing. One would assume that before the Creator, which ever one they choose to believe in, it was just a huge expanse of roiling darkness as far as the eye could see, consuming the entirety of existence in a suffocating blanket of black. They are wrong, however, because if there was “nothing”, there technically wouldn’t be any black, either. No colors whatsoever, in fact, not to mention life or other matter. If anything the Beginning would’ve been a stark white, for instead of black, which is actually all of the colors mixed together, it is simply an absence of color altogether. And that was what it was, according to the Creator. Just whiteness, like an empty canvas waiting to be used to create a masterpiece._

_No one truly knows how the Creator originally came to be, not even I, and humans debate whether He is God or a multitude of gods, but whichever way, He sort of…appeared. One moment there was nothing and the next He was there. One can never be sure of the true extent of the Creator’s abilities, whether you believe in one, or many, or possibly none at all, and there are many paradoxes based on this reasoning. Only a select few, none of them who roam a human plane of reality, have ever laid eyes on Him, though of those select few I am one of them. He wishes to archive the events of this Beginning, and I am to scribe His every Word._

\----

            _The Beginning, of course, was extraordinary beyond comparison. Almost immediately after He got his bearings of the situation, the Creator, well,_ created _the entirety of the universe. Most humans, being the self-centered anomalies that they are, suppose that the Creator made them first, but that is far from the case. In fact, there is a whole history before the humans and Earth were even considered. First He made Heaven, which unless this tablet has fallen into the wrong hands, should be familiar to the reader. In fact, he made seven of them, and one can infer that this is why He stopped on the seventh day when creating the world. The descriptions of the Seven Heavens will be documented on another tablet, perhaps, for it would simply make things too cluttered for the willing soul or angel who wishes to seek out this knowledge._

_Heaven itself consists of endless, cloudy plains that span for as long as the universe is large, which of course makes it difficult to navigate. Luckily, along with Heaven came countless cities, most of which reside in the First and Third Heavens. The Capitol, the city surrounding His palace, is by far the biggest, and all of the cities and towns on Earth combines wouldn’t equal even a smidgeon of its immensity. From there He created the angels. We are to serve His will and sing his praise, as well as assist Him with His duties, and eventually once He created humans we in turn also stood watch over them and their activities, even serving as messengers of His Word. We are easier to behold, yet are still in every way divine, and can contain our true forms much more easily; if God showed Himself, the poor creature whom he was attempting to communicate with would most likely explode on every plane of reality in existence, not to mention dispersing into particles so tiny that even He would have difficulty putting them back together again. His voice also has the same effect, which is rather unfortunate._

_The first of all the angels were the Seraphim, who are but the only types of angels that have ever gazed upon the Creator, excluding myself, and they reside in His palace and sing praises to Him in billions of languages, most not even native to Earth. They are important in many, many ways, but they never leave His palace and therefore do not play much of a part in the history of the universe, however their song tells us when trouble is near. When it turns sour, their notes turning sharp and dangerous, wars on Earth tend to erupt like ferocious volcanoes; large massacres that slaughter hundreds of thousands of people. By far their worst song came when World War II began, costing the highest human death toll around the world. (For more information see_ The Seraphim Tablet _)_

_Cherubim followed, overseeing all of the important academics, such as mathematics, astronomy, history, and other things of the like. They, too, are very odd-looking, however their torsos were the inspiration for that of the human male; it wasn’t like He just thought humans up and built on the subject. No, He had inspiration from Cherubim, since angels at the time didn’t have human forms since humans hadn’t even been invented yet. They, along with Thrones and Seraphim, don’t interfere with humans much at all except for influence them; they never make interaction whatsoever._

_The next angels, though, will forever affect the balance of God’s creation. He spent many nights working on his next design. Seven to be exact, since for your information He has a way of making sure things are constant and organized. He labored over it, tweaking and assembling and disassembling it all over again. Finally, when He was done, He told his masterpiece, “You are my son, and I am your Father. You shall be called Michael.”_

_Michael was the first angel, or at least the first angel with the ability to change to a human form. He was always viewed as the most handsome, with an incredible moral compass and loyal to a fault. He resided in his palace, taking up the role of Heaven’s leader. He was like the President of the United States only with millions of times more power; he was commander-in-chief, chief executive, and chief citizen (all of that other stuff had yet to be invented. Despite this, Michael was actually inconsequential at first. Even though he was the eldest brother and led Heaven with a steady hand, he was merely viewed by his brothers as the annoying, loud-mouthed older sibling that was always telling everyone what to do, though he and Gabriel got along quite well. He had no specific job whatsoever aside from leading, and he played little part in the years leading up to the Fall._

_Next came Azrael, the second-oldest Archangel. One would be astounded when I told them that at first he was unimportant, merely a brother to offer his advice and to take control for short periods of time. He didn’t like doing so, however, for he wasn’t really created for that purpose. God, being all-knowing, had predicted Adam and Eve’s picking and eating of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and had made Azrael to help dish out the consequences. When they picked that apple, death and mortality were introduced to the world, and it was, is, his job to pick up the souls of the humans that were expiring and bring them to Heaven. Now, if Azrael ever disappeared for some reason, the very basic material of the world would disintegrate, for now most know him as the Angel of Death._

_After came Raphael, the pleasant Healer and lover of all things wildlife. Sure, he was incredible with a spear, but it would be against his nature to harm even the smallest of flies. He introduced medicine and other forms of healing, the first doctor, and is the calm voice of reason amongst the chaos. Some even refer to him as their “conscience”, and that’s because Raphael, who was also an inventor, assisted God in developing the first human, and in doing so infused a part of himself with their mortal soul. He also watches over fertility, and is at the birth of every human that will play a large role in history. Every leader of every country, every war hero, every successful author, and every astounding scientist have had a birth overseen by Raphael to make sure that they aren’t lost; if that happened, then the course of history would change dramatically and perhaps it would call of the Apocalypse. (See The Apocalypse tablet for more information). He personally inserts the soul into them. Children who are miscarried or are stillborn do not yet have souls, so there is no threat of the soul inside being lost, however a soul who was meant to be given to a miscarried or stillborn child is blessed to have good luck when they are inserted into another._

_Uriel is one of the feistiest Archangels and is viewed widely as a celebrity. He is ruggedly handsome and is the macho police officer of Heaven. He asked Michael to be the leader of Heaven’s armies but was denied, considering his boiling temper and his tendency to jump to conclusions. He had to settle for being the dealer of punishment in Heaven and had rule over fire, which would become a major tool used by humans that would cause their rise in technology. If angels became wayward, they were cast out of Heaven by Uriel, who was way too entertained when he dealt justice and ripped out their wings._

_Gabriel came second-to-last. He was quite the handful, Gabriel, like a hurricane had obtained angelic form and was now whipping around Heaven breaking things. Trust me, I have had to deal with Gabriel before and know that his hyperactivity is quite unpleasant. He was possibly the first ever being to have ADHD, and in order to put his endless energy to good use he was made the messenger of God and of Michael. It wasn’t surprising, though, that his meeting with Mary was quite less ceremonious as humans make it out to be, ultimately resulting in a few choice words that wouldn’t be invented in another two thousand years, an example being, I quote, “Yo, girl, you’re preggers!” Needless to say that Mary was confused. Azrael, Michael, Uriel, and Raphael were quite content with their current arrangement, since Gabriel was already a handful, but then God created one last Archangel, who He named Lucifer._

_Most view Lucifer as the devil, with skin the color of blood and twisted, deformed features, but in reality he was everything that they could ever dream of. He was the final innovation of the Archangel, the Morning Star, and he was almost as glorious as God Himself. Perhaps, though He will not say, Lucifer was God’s pride and joy, for he was perfect in every way, shape, and form, since He had tweaked and adjusted the original design of the Archangel to create a newer, better version. Lucifer was as masculine handsome as he was feminine beautiful, and he had two, pure-white wings sprouting from his back. Lucifer immediately took up the position as the leader of Heaven’s armies, by his Father’s command (so Michael couldn’t deny him like he’d denied Uriel), though it was also partly due to the fact that the other angels that were already there didn’t quite appreciate the idea of warfare, too consumed in their own work to pay much attention to that. He left Michael just going over the politics, and the eldest Archangel found himself with little to no control over anything, unlike his brothers._

_Little did the angels know, however, that things were about to take a turn for the worst, because Lucifer, in his glory and beauty and fame, developed one weakness, a weakness that, despite its insignificance at the time, would end Heaven as they knew it. It all began when whispers began to pass through the Heavens, weaving their way into the ears of eager angels and circling overhead like vultures. They claimed that God wasn’t really all-powerful, that he was controlling them for no reason but to feel stronger, and everyone was aware that the rumors were there. Even so, what they didn’t realize was that Lucifer was the one who’d begun to spread them. Those who did find out joined Lucifer as his followers, turning to him rather than the Creator._

_Pretty soon, one third of all angels had turned to Lucifer. The other Archangels, fearing for their safety, confronted him about the matter, but it ended in disaster. Lucifer disappeared into hiding, along with his followers, and for five years there was a tense standstill, the tension building as neither Lucifer nor the other angels showed their faces. In that time, the angels that were still loyal prepared for war, but there was a problem. Uriel was too hot-headed to be a steady general, and Raphael was a pacifist (in fact he was the one that invoked pacifism within Christians). Azrael had other duties to tend to despite not being the Angel of Death, and that left Michael. The eldest Archangel was thrust into the position as commander of Heaven’s army after millennia of allowing Lucifer to do it, and no sooner did that happen did Lucifer attack._

_There was chaos. Angels against angels, unsure of who was loyal and who was not, brother against brother in an earth-shaking battle. Heaven’s towers crumbled, swathes of angels were killed, and yet the battle raged for nearly a century. At times it seemed like Lucifer would win, and that only made more angels turn their backs on the inexperienced general and his armies, pretty soon it was evenly matched, with the death toll on Michael’s side mounting and the numbers of Lucifer’s troops rising steadily. One fateful battle determined it all. I was there, and I was stationed on the outskirts of the Capitol in case any of Lucifer’s minions managed to bleed past the main lines, which in some cases they did._

_Lucifer was pressing and pressing forwards, trying to make it towards Heaven’s capitol, and his hordes of soldiers consumed most of the front lines. In the form of a six-headed dragon, the Morning Star blowtorched everything that was in his path, along with Leviathan; a beautiful angel who’d been twisted into a huge serpent, eventually becoming the symbol of Lucifer’s crusade. She is now known as Medusa. As Gabriel and Uriel attempted to help the foot soldiers, Raphael took on Leviathan, going against his morals for the sake of this one battle, and Michael, well he had to face his brother. Lightning flashed and fire rained from the sky, the ground littered with corpses and the air reeking of the blood of immortals. Finally, Michael ensnared Lucifer with a chain that was stronger than any in the universe, and, binding him tightly, cast both he and his rebels into the dark pit that awaited, created by God to keep the creatures away from the rest of creation. With a heavy heart he named it “Hell”._

_Lucifer now resides in Hell, but he is not alone. Along with his fallen angels, demons now serve him almost just as loyally, despite the fact that they weren’t present in the War in Heaven. They are the mangled and twisted souls of the damned, and they are almost as powerful as the fallen angels, since they have one thing that the celestial beings don’t; free will. They are able to make their own tactical maneuvers and use smooth, silky words, which are basically honey laced with poison, to get humans to sell their souls to them and increase their numbers. Lucifer’s army is gathering itself again, and the chain, however strong, begins to wear down after millennia. Therefore, in the year 1987 A.D., it must be renewed by the order of God, or else it will continue to weaken until he is free. In that situation, expect him to arrive sometime in the year of 2016 A.D._

_-The Beginning Tablet-_

_-Scribed by The Metatron-_

_\- Re-scribed in the year 1986 A.D.-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This is 1st person POV and in no way am I associating myself with these beliefs. I have researched it and am not attempting to impose my ideas on you. 
> 
> This incredibly late update was sponsored by writer’s block and me being a lazy bum.


	11. Till His Songs One Burden Bore

_“You can’t walk with God while holding hands with the devil.”_

_-Anonymous_

\----Ω----

_He was light and life and everything beautiful. He stood in his true form and blazed like the sun, the only sun there was and the only one that there ever will be. He had thousands of wings, only two of which could be seen in his human form, and he was beautiful. He extended his hand, his eyes blazing like a thousand fires and his smile nearly blinding to those who lay their eyes upon it. The smaller soul, much smaller in fact, flapped his single pair of wings hesitantly, feeling insignificant, which only made him smile more. With impossible tenderness of something with such immense size, he caressed the angel’s cheek._

_“Do not be afraid, young brother of mine, I will keep you safe,” he crooned in a voice that ripped through all of creation, a heavy baritone that simply could not be ignored._

_“I cannot go with you,” the other angel replied weakly. It was hard to resist. His brilliance could not be matched, other than that of God Himself, and his voice was so reassuring, so confident, that the angel wanted to fall to his knees and beg to join him. But he knew that that would be wrong. “I apologize.”_

_“Why are you holding back, brother?” he questioned, his voice laced with genuine puzzlement. “You have so much potential within that body of yours, yet you put it to waste bowing to higher powers_. _My brother doesn’t even see you, to him, you’re merely a_ messenger _.” He spat the last word out as if it were poison, and all of a sudden his glory and grace faltered and twitched, replaced with something much darker, and the smaller angel flinched away at his harsh words. For some reason, he didn’t like to think that Michael only saw him as a colleague. It hurt to say the least. Lucifer was powerful, powerful like no other, almost as powerful as he was radiant and glorious. He was everything that the small angel could ever hope for and more, and that’s what made him so dangerous._

 _“I must remain loyal,” he replied, though his voice quivered. He sounded so meek compared to the one in front of him, so paltry and puny both in size, beauty, and demeanor. When he saw the other’s unconvinced look, he repeated, with more confidence, “I_ must _remain loyal. I shall not defy Him or His good Will.”_

_“You speak of Him with such reverence,” the glorious one hissed, and once again his form flickered. “He is nothing but a liar and a fool.”_

_“You blaspheme!” the smaller angel cried, growing furious. He raised his wings up, his feathers flaring, and though he was approximately the size of the humans’ Empire State Building, he was dwarfed by the angel in front of him. Despite that, he was a warrior, and was willing to fight for His name._

_The mighty angel didn’t even bat an eyelash, his smile becoming crooked. In a voice that was more commanding than it was encouraging, he said, “Come with me, Perseus. You will have everything and more, I guarantee.” His voice was as soft as it was deadly, like honey-coated venom, and his voice compelled the small angel, Perseus, who nearly crumbled to his knees in effort to resist._

_“No, I will not join you,” he growled. “This is the end of the line, Lucifer. You are my brother and I love you with every single fiber of my soul, but you are becoming something that I do not wish to ally myself. Look in the mirror and you shall find what I am referring to. You are corrupted. You are sinful. You are tainted. Please, I beg of you, repent and ask for forgiveness so you can be the brother that I once knew.”_

_Lucifer snarled, a sound that shook the very ground they stood on. “Very well, but I will not hesitate to crush you when you stand in my path.” And with a mighty boom, the sound of thousands of wings beating at once, he was gone. Perseus wept and grieved his loss._

\----Ω----

 

            “Lucifer,” Percy whispered, reeling himself back into reality once he processed what he’d just heard. He had to brace himself on the steering wheel in order to keep himself from slumping into unconsciousness, his wings, crushed against the seat, thrashing a bit in his shock. Lucifer was up and kicking, and if he was hard to resist before, then he certainly would be impossible to turn away from now. He was the embodiment of sin and deceit, of lies and blasphemes, and now that he’d concentrated all of his power on that darkness, he would be able to lure his friends to their deaths. Perseus knew how his brother, since all angels were technically related in that weird sort-of Greek god and demigod way (it was perfectly okay for them to date one another without it being creepy), could amass an entire army with a mere word, how he could say ‘jump’ and the entirety of Heaven would shriek ‘how high?’, and worst of all how he could send his brothers and sisters into battle like lambs to slaughter. The temptation of pleasing him was too hard to say no to.

            He could only imagine how he would lay waste to Earth. His demons were already able to travel to his realm and back, and his hold was slowly tightening on the world, so much so that he was able to capture the Archangels. They’d voiced their concern about the stirring of evil on the ground before they’d disappeared, and that was the one detail that they hadn’t relay to the humans; the Archangels hadn’t just disappeared into thin air. No, they’d all descended to Earth to check out this amassing evil had had been captured. Until now, Heaven hadn’t known what had done it.

            The residents of this world, the humans, didn’t stand a chance against him. Lucifer was too well known, too feared to be faced down, and even his friends’ fallen angel lovers were no match to his shattered and corrupted divinity. Lucifer would obviously weed out the weak ones first, striking deals with them only to have their soul in return. Pretty soon he’d mass an army of souls, as well as the bodies that they’d left behind, and on top of his demons, and fallen angels who wanted revenge, it would be an army that even Heaven would be wary about facing.

            He’d then continue to destroy all of the levels of humanity. The ones who weren’t supposed to survive the first dealing; the weak minded who hid behind stronger pillars to anchor themselves. He’d then destroy the ones who were only barely hanging on, and then after that the ones who were strong but just not strong enough. Of course, he’d do this through plague, drought, famine, earthquakes, thunder, volcanic eruptions, and hurricanes, pitching Mother Nature against the children she nurtured. He’d find a person’s one small weakness, their fatal flaw if you will, and exploit it until there was nothing left. By this time he’d have a group of battle-hardened humans who wouldn’t go down without a fight, all so worn and numb from all that they’d witnessed that they’d become emotionless warriors who didn’t care who got hurt in the crossfire.

            Then he’d slaughter them all himself. A fox sealed tightly in a chicken coup full of fat, flightless hens.

            Perseus shivered at the carnage he imagined and shifted around uncomfortably in the automobile, the machine very unfit for a person with a twenty foot wingspan. Black feathers littered the interior, and his wings had developed a severe case of pins-and-needles from being squashed against the seat for so long. At that moment he didn’t seem to notice or care, because that was the moment when he saw the dark shapes coming towards him. Shapes that he knew were neither friendly, nor human at all. With trembling fingers he raised his walkie-talkie to his mouth and whispered, “Fahrenheit.”

            _Drop everything and run._

            There came a chorus of cries from the receiving end, a jumbled mass of alarm as the voices of his friends called out to him, but he slowly switched the intercom off, swallowing hard and closing his eyes as the sweat that had been peppering his brow began to leak down his temples. He turned around to see more shadows looming behind him, and it didn’t take a genius to know that all were armed to the teeth, firearms being no exception. If he took flight they’d fill his wings with lead, and if he ran they’d fill his body with lead. It was a lose-lose situation, with chances of escape being so small that they were almost nonexistent, and so with a heavy heart Perseus opened the car door and stepped out, wanting to at least go down with pride. Angels couldn’t die, but that was only from anything on the mortal plane of reality. Demons had weapons that could destroy an angel’s divine grace from the inside out, making it collapse in on itself and therefore kill the angel. All you had to do was put a blade of the right material through it. Perseus could practically smell the reek of Stygian Iron in the air.

            “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the demon asked, his completely glowing yellow eyes unshielded from him. A double-edged Stygian Iron blade glinted in his hand, and he ran his palm over the flat of it, which was as black as obsidian, and just as sharp and deadly. Percy wanted to laugh at him for the cliché line, wanted to poke fun until they ran him though, but he was too loyal to his friends to do that. Hopefully he’d still be alive when they located him.

            “What do you want?” he asked, backing up a little as the demons approached, only for his back to connect with the very muscular and firm chest of another that was behind him. They closed in, and he felt his heart rate increasing. If only he’d brought his angel blade, Riptide, to Earth, but that was forbidden. Damn Heaven and its good values.

            “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I honestly couldn’t care less. It’s not like he could treat me any worse than he does now. I’ll let you in on a little secret; you made quite the impression on Lucifer when he'd confronted you all those years ago,”  the one that he’d just bumped into purred, shaking her head and causing the snakes that made up her hair to hiss and squirm, glaring at him with slit yellow eyes. Leviathan. Medusa. Perseus began to realize just who these demons were, and they certainly weren’t just lackeys. They were the real deal. The heavy artillery. “Let’s just say your will and resistance was quite impressive, and he’d very much enjoy breaking it.”

            “Hey, can we just talk this out?” Percy tried, forcing a smile as his wings folded tightly against his back. He was glad that these demons didn’t know what angel wing gestures meant, because right now he was practically radiating fear, trying to shield his wings from any damage that they might cause to them. “Because this sounds very painful and I really don’t want to go through with it.”

            “You think he wants to torture you?” the other demon asked, his golden eyes flashing. Azazel. Kronos. “Well yes, I suppose so, however he has something else in mind.”

            “What would that be?” Percy demanded trying to sound headstrong and confident, but his voice was wavering as the demons closed in.

            “Let’s just say that Michael took something away from Lucifer that he really loved. Now he’s going to do the same, except with a little more kick to it and a lot more pain on Michael’s part,” Medusa chuckled darkly, and her snakes laughed along with her, sending the hairs on Percy’s arms to stand up on end.

            “I don’t understand…” His brow furrowed, and he frowned.

            “Jesus, are all angels this fucking stupid?” Kronos scoffed, twirling his Stygian Iron dagger while grinning like a madman. “No matter. It’s not of importance if you understand or not. We do, however, have to take you down to Los Angeles.”

            “Why there?” the angel asked, puzzled, but his heart was roaring in his chest.

            “The Boss is a big fan of dark irony,” the yellow-eyed demon crooned, his voice sickly sweet. “It’ll be fun when the rest of your pals realize that he began murdering the world in ‘The City of Angels’. So he opened the gate to Hell there.

 

\----Ω----

            “You’re failing,” the angel bellowed, his rust-colored wings flaring out behind him to a rather imposing size. The other angel looked no better than he, though instead of outwardly expressing her anger she affixed the assembled humans and fallen angels with a gaze that was withering beyond compare. “You were given a task and you’re _failing_.” They were on the roof of the Golden Swords’ headquarters, and the wind was buffeting them mercilessly, howling at them and screaming their sins to the skies.

            _Percy is missing._

_Percy is gone._

_They lost him._

_They let him get taken._

Perseus the messenger angel had been gone for three days, and all it took was him muttering that one word into the walkie-talkie and the state the car was in when they came back. It’d been destroyed. The windows had been decimated, the tires slashed to bits of rubber, and there were hand shaped dents on the roof, like Percy had been grabbing onto it before they’d whisked him away. Lucifer had Perseus, and even though it wasn’t in any way her fault, for she could’ve done nothing to prevent it, Calypso felt responsible. She had a tendency to blame herself for things that she had absolutely no control over, but as a fallen angel she couldn’t help but think that she should’ve been taken instead. Fallen angels were so much more expendable, and Percy still was a beacon of light, a shining soul that had literally went to hell and back just to get his wings back. It felt null and void now; that whole adventure, when Rachel had called her and her fallen brothers and sisters to action for the sake of one angel’s wings.

            Calypso had kept in touch with Rachel and the others after she’d left to live with Leo, but now they constantly moved around the country to help fallen angels of all different species and degrees of guiltiness. She hadn’t contacted them since she’d been dragged to Heaven, really, and wondered how she was faring with the Archangels missing; without Uriel to cast angels from Heaven, she had no business, though what the redhead did have was quite the amount of mouths to feed. Sometimes she misses the life of companionship; falling asleep curled up next to the warm bodies of countless of her siblings. Then again, pickings had been slim, and not for one moment would she regret having gone off to marry Leo.

            Speaking of which, she turned to her husband and watched as his eyes narrowed at the comment. She knew that look on his face; it was the “I’m going to blow up” look, which she had seen many times, and before she could shut him up he bellowed, “Listen, babyface, we’re trying as hard as we can,” he bared his teeth, his hands balling into fists, “but it’s a bit hard considering you and the rest of the Heavenly Hotheads put us up against the king of Hell! A little help would be nice!”

            “Don’t speak in such a manner!” the angel bellowed, his eyes flashing, and it took Calypso all but a moment to remember just how powerful angels were when they weren’t contained or mutilated. She’d gotten so used to being fallen, as well as being around others like Nico and Percy, that she really didn’t take into consideration the fact that the angels up in Heaven were _nothing_ like them, and that most of them hadn’t even been to Earth once. She missed the powers that she’d once possessed, but it was difficult to miss something that you barely remember; she’d been fallen for centuries, all because of a brawl she’d had with a stuck-up fire angel named Odysseus, who left her and never came back. “Your manner of speech is vulgar, both in words and in attitude towards a superior.” Now it was Calypso’s turn to get defensive. No one talked to her husband like that.

            “Don’t you dare talk to my husband in that tone!” she snapped, stepping in front of Leo despite his clear distaste in being protected. He immediately batted her off and took a stance as the big, macho, bad boy husband that was defending his wife’s honor, since being protected by his wife, however, was a severe blow to his masculinity. Calypso decided to have a talk with him later about the times when showing his manliness was appropriate and the times where it was just plain stupid, though he did look very astounding with his tousled curly hair and his (slightly impish) face that was full of determination.

             “I know I’m biased,” he growled, “but by the interactions I’ve had with other angels that haven’t fallen at one point, I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re so stiff and rigid. It’s probably because sticks are shoved so far up their asses that it’s physically impossible for them to be any other way!” The angel opened his mouth to roar a retort, his eyes blazing with all of the fury of an avenging angel, when Jason stepped between the two of them.

            The blond had been absolutely wrecked when he found of Percy’s capture, so much that he’d actually locked himself in his old room at the headquarters and had only allowed Piper to enter. More often than not Calypso had heard quiet crying coming from behind the door. If Calypso thought she was the one that always blamed themselves for everything, then she was kidding herself. Jason was ten times worse, with that trait imbedded into his genes, and it didn’t help that Percy was a very, very close friend of his. They’d been through so much together that at one point Calypso thought that Jason was hella gay for Percy, but it was more of a brotherly bond. God, if things went in the direction she thought it was going, this would turn into a Supernatural melodrama.

            Jason’s expression was calm and collected, his blue gaze scanning the assembled people steadily, but there were shadows under his eyes and he had an unruly stubble from countless nights of trying and failing to locate Percy. He followed leads that led to nowhere, clung to mere coincidences like they were lifelines, and his slow degrading had an effect on everyone, Piper mostly. When he spoke his words were measured, but Calypso could see the anxiety in his eyes, “Calm down, both of you.”  Reluctantly, they simmered down a few notches, though the dirty looks exchanged couldn’t be ignored in the slightest. “Instead of fighting, we have to figure out a way to take down Lucifer.” He nodded to the two angels. “Hazel, Frank, we’re sorry for not solving the problem, but Calypso is right. Lucifer is a much bigger enemy than us, and you can’t expect this to be done and over with so soon.”

            “But you let Percy get caught by Lucifer’s minions,” Hazel hissed. “You left him alone when certainly you of all people should _know_ that he is vulnerable on Earth without backup-” Gwen cut him off.

            “Don’t accuse us of that. If we’d known of this so-called ‘vulnerability’, then we wouldn’t’ve let him out of our sight,” she told her. Her voice wasn’t boasting or ratty, just factual, and Calypso mentally applauded her ability to not snap at the winged bastards. She couldn’t believe that she’d once been among them, and couldn’t help but wonder why any angel would want a life like that. Growing stiff and judgmental while being crushed under the weight of so many rules and regulations. Come to think of it, all of that was for the sake of two wings and the ability of flight. Why would she ever want to forsake her free will just so she could fly? Humans could fly on parachutes, gliders, and planes, and every other place was either walking, driving, or train-riding distance away. Then she saw the look on Frank’s face. His stoic façade had crumbled and he was staring at them with a look that was very akin to that of a lost puppy.

             “He was my friend, I suppose,” he whispered, suddenly hesitant and unsure as he wrung his hands together. “Of course, Perseus had no true friends, best buds with his work as you all would say. But when he came back and had met you humans, he set his standards so high.” Hazel touched his shoulder gingerly and kneaded the muscle in a reassuring way, egging him on. “Human nature cannot be mimicked by a celestial being unless they have lost their holiness at one point or another. I, we, tried so hard to be his replacements, since he was unable to interact with you, but he would have none of it. He was always polite, always willing to hang out, but he sometimes blanked out, thinking about his times back on Earth. Sometimes he’d have flashbacks. He was so out of place, like a Greek in a Roman camp.”

            Hazel continued for him, “You’re still his true friends.” She gestured to herself and Frank, “We’re still his…acquaintances. And we have to save him; you did make a good point, Leo. As his companions we are partially in charge of his well-being. All of us. And we failed not only the mission, but him. We truly and wholeheartedly wish we could join you, but our angelic grace will be like a beacon and alert Lucifer of your presence. You won’t be able to get within ten miles of him before he’s gone.”

            “But we will act as your command center,” Frank cut in, and Hazel looked surprised, though she didn’t comment. He was clearly making this up on the spot, and she had undoubtedly not been informed of their new position as their super-secret-spy informers. “We’ll stay in Heaven and inform you of all of the affairs going on. We’ll somehow seize hold of some demon tracking and dark occurrence detecting technology.” There was silence for a moment, and Hazel had a pondering look on her face, but then it suddenly lit up with delight.

            Turning to Frank, she exclaimed jovially, “I have ties with the lead Cherubim, Malakai, and I can get us access to the world map! That comes with the studies that they’re doing of suspicious, otherworldly activity, too.” Calypso would be lying if she said that she wasn’t impressed.

            “You know Malakai?” Frank blurted, and the former messenger angel of Michael nodded.

            “Michael and he collaborate…collaborated…constantly and I eventually got to know him from delivering messages back and forth.” The rusty-winged angel mumbled something under his breath about liking to have known that earlier, but didn’t outright demand to know all of the details.

            “We’ll be joining you,” Gwen chimed in suddenly, her hand clasped tightly with Dakota, who nodded in his agreement.

            “What?” Everyone, including the two angels, asked simultaneously.

            “Gwen and I have lived a long, happy life,” Dakota sighed, looking around sheepishly at the shocked faces of his friends. His family. “We lived and we don’t want to go through that again.” He took in a shuddering breath when he found that someone had yet to reject their decision. “Gwen died a week before me and the grief was just unbearable. And come on, who wants to go through that awkward mid-life crisis again?” All of the humans simultaneously shook their heads, though Will had yet to discover the joys of middle-age and arthritis.

            Annabeth stepped forwards, and both of them flinched, but instead of blowing up about how they wanted to abandon the mission, she placed a steady hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “I understand,” she told them quietly, smiling. Her eyes were glassy, but her face was determined. “I hereby relieve you of your duty as members of the Golden Swords. You’ve served bravely and you’ve served well.” He turned to the others. Jason, Reyna, Nico, Will, Leo, and of course Calypso stared back, and even though their expressions were sad and pained, having to lose their friends again, they didn’t object to their wishes. Annabeth nodded, her jaw set. “Then it’s settled.” She turned to Frank and Hazel, who’d been watching the whole thing quietly. “If that’s okay with you.”

            “If Metatron is upset then he’ll have to deal with it. That’s the one thing about free will; people who have it won’t take no for an answer once their mind is made up,” she replied, and everyone laughed. Her golden gaze raking over the assembled Golden Swords, “We’ll be off, then. There’s not much Heaven can do, but hopefully we’ll get in touch soon.” She held out her arms, the perfect depiction of an angel in all of those old paintings that was reaching out to the souls of Earth, and Dakota and Gwen gladly joined her and Frank at the edge of the facility. Calypso really hoped that it wouldn’t require the two to die again, but when she caught Frank’s eye he shook his head no, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He and the messenger angel spread their wings, ready to have the currents lift them up, when suddenly Frank grabbed Hazel’s bicep in an attempt to make sure she didn’t leave.

            She looked puzzled, but that’s when the rusty-winged angel turned to the humans and fallen angels and asked, “By any chance do you know if Perseus’ condition has gotten any better?” Genuine worry and concern teased the edge of his expression, but Calypso was beyond puzzled. Looking around, she was glad that she apparently wasn’t the only one who was bewildered.

            “Condition?” Nico asked, his brows knitting. “No.”

            “But aren’t you his best fallen angel friend?” Hazel inquired. She began to look anxious too, and she and her lover exchanged a look that Calypso couldn’t quite figure out. Dakota and Gwen waited patiently with them, though they looked both curious and dumbfounded at the same time.

            “Of course he is,” Annabeth cut in, having been silent for the whole exchange, immersed within deep thought. She’d been affected by Percy’s capture as well, but did her best not to show it. Calypso had spent a night with her just listening and comforting her woes about the missing angel. “I was close to him, too. We all were. But he never mentioned any sort of condition. May I ask about what you’re talking about?” Her arms were crossed and her brows were knit and the corners of her mouth were downturned, though the same expression emerged when she was brooding.

             “You mean he didn’t tell you?” Frank’s expression had gone from nervous to downright fearful, though in his eyes there was something like pity directed at them. Mostly to himself he added, “I suppose that would’ve been the best option if he didn’t want them to worry,” though that comment was almost lost to the rushing of the wind.

            “Worry about what?” Reyna cut in, her voice as demanding as ever.

            “Ever since he came back to Heaven, Perseus was crying blood. Angels aren’t meant to return to Heaven is they’ve fallen and it can have an…effect on them.”

            “What sort of effects?” Will sounded fearful, and Nico gathered his boyfriend’s trembling form into his arms. Calypso couldn’t imagine what the blond was feeling, since crying blood was something that they were all, unfortunately, very acquainted with, especially him.

            “Percy is, technically,” Frank inhaled sharply and screwed his eyes shut, “a Watcher.”

 

\----Ω----

 

            Once he opened the door, the smell of blood slammed into him like a wave, and a small, cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The acrid, sharp tangs of fear and pain were present as well, entwined with the jagged, and rather delectable, metallic reek of gore. It was pitch-black, the darkness engulfing everything that touched it, but he could see without a problem, and it wasn’t like the cell was large or anything. There were no windows, the walls all impenetrable titanium, and there was nothing contained within it except for a barely humanoid form that was sprawled in the center. On the walls were sigils and signs that one didn’t have to be an expert to know were of the darkest evil, all of them inky black and engraved within the walls and ceilings, keeping the prisoner contained.

            Speaking of, at the sound of his arrival, the captive curled in on himself slightly, barely having the strength to move. His wings were bound together with wire so tightly that they’d begun to bleed long ago, and the flow never seemed to ebb even slightly. Boy, the angel must be uncomfortable, for the wires prevented him from even folding up his wings without enduring excruciating pain, so he was forced to keep them spread in the air, which must’ve ached beyond any comparison, not to mention the fact that the wire was cutting off his circulation. Had it been any normal wire binding the angel’s wings, then it would’ve long since snapped due to wing muscles’ incredible strength, but this wire was made of a material that wasn’t native to the human world. The Stygian Iron effectively kept the angel’s wings in check and caused him that little extra pain.

            The prisoner moaned, and there was such agony packed into that one little, pitiful sound that he almost laughed. As he approached, he could hear the angel’s heartbeat screaming in his chest, slamming against his ribcage and begging to be let out, and his blood was singing. He loved that song, the song of fear that all blood sang when their bodies were terrified for their life, longing to get out and escape. With the chains that attached each of his limbs to the floor being only five links each, he knew that that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He studied his prize, his gaze raking over his trembling form, covered by clothes that were held together by threads, and traveled to his wings. Even if it was dark and they were covered in blood, those two, arching wings were a beautiful shiny black that he couldn’t help but admire. He’d never seen wings that were completely consumed by black, and not even his own had been that way, despite what others would suppose. It was rather alluring, and he grinned as his plan unfolded; the plan to tear his brother down brick by brick. It all started with him taking away every little think that he loved. Starting with Perseus. He mused how he could use a new mate since the prisoner had slaughtered his other one. Not that he cared; she’d been a bitch.

            Another whine tugged from the angel’s lips, obviously against his will, and his grin only grew. The angel was quite the stunning sight, even covered head to toe in his own blood. His hair was as black as his wings, though it had grown unruly and matted, and his eyes, oh his eyes could make any other angel fall from Heaven. They were a blazing sea green that glowed dimly in the dark, however it was less than pleasing to see the steady streams of blood leaking from his tear ducts. It was a rather cruel fate, wasn’t it? He wasn’t technically a Watcher, so he wouldn’t crumble to dust, but that only prolonged his suffering. Watchers weren’t technically living, but the angel here was, and he would keep dying over and over and over again as all of the blood leaked slowly, but steadily, from his eyes. He was pretty sure that the angel had already died twice during his stay here, where the stress caused the blood flow to increase considerably.

            “Hello, Perseus,” he crooned, shutting the heavily armored door behind him and going to kneel beside his brother. They weren’t technically brothers, both just created by God, and he hated how angels called one another that. Heck, some lovers had probably called one another ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ at one point or another, which made it a bit incest-y. Perseus remained silent, a smart move, but he didn’t think that he could speak if he tried. “Remember me?”

            “Lucifer,” he whispered in a voice so quiet that even the Fallen King, with the exceptional Archangelic hearing that he had, had to lean in to hear him.

            “Oh good, you haven’t forgotten,” he replied, his voice sickly sweet, like honey covered poison. “Though it seems that you’ve tried your best to do so.” He rose to his feet and began circling around the angel, a panther stalking its cornered prey. “You never write,” he kicked Perseus in the side, ripping an ungodly scream from the angel, “You never call,” another shriek as his foot connected with the angel’s bleeding, wound-riddled skin, “Hell, you didn’t even give the time to Iris message.” He tutted, a master chastising his disobedient dog, but didn’t kick him even though Perseus had braced for it. “How do you live with ignoring me?”

            “How do _you_ live with corrupting one third of Heaven’s forces, slaughtering the others that were smart enough not to join you? Your own kind? Your own flesh and blood?” the angel growled, a predatory sound that was barely human. Lucifer’s haughty mask cracked, and for a moment his eyes blazed with unfathomable fury, but instead of smiting the angel then and there, he calmed himself and forced a grin, though it looked more like a grimace. It did serve to scare the angel, though, for his razor sharp fangs gleamed sinisterly.

            “You hurt me,” Lucifer scorned coldly, placing his hand over his chest in a mock imitation of getting shot. “You should really see a therapist and talk about how you should think before you speak.”

            “Bite me,” Perseus hissed.

            “Ah-ah,” he waggled his finger at the green-eyed angel. “You shouldn’t speak to the one about to free you with that tone.” Perseus froze up, his eyes widening, and Lucifer failed to conceal his triumphant expression as he produced a beautiful golden skeleton key, using it to unlock all four of the angel’s manacles. Luckily, Perseus wasn’t stupid enough to lunge at him, and for that he was glad, because then things would just become much more tiresome and painfully bloody, the former applying to Lucifer and the latter applying to Perseus. The Fallen King knew better than to free the former messenger angel’s wings, though; being a messenger angel, Perseus’ wings were twice the size of a normal angel’s and almost as powerful as an Archangel’s wings, perfectly capable of snapping Lucifer’s neck when he wasn’t looking.

            “I’m going to give you a choice, Perseus,” the fallen angel said lowly. “You can be a good boy and stay, or,” he snapped his fingers and the door swung open, “you can run.” Beyond the door was a seemingly endless hallway, lined with doors on either side. All were unmarked. All looked the same. From the defiance in his eyes, Lucifer knew that the angel wouldn’t opt for staying, but sooner or later he would find that there was nowhere to run here. Nowhere to hide. Faster than the human eye could possibly perceive, and Lucifer was glad that his eyes were of a much higher register, Perseus was off like a bullet. Even if he didn’t have his wings, he was still faster than the average jet fighter on foot. No sooner did the prisoner’s toes touch just beyond the threshold of his cell did the hellhounds begin to bay, their low, moaning howls echoing throughout the fortress as they detected that a prisoner was free. Lucifer smiled as he heard the layered, double-toned howl of Cerberus’ two heads as the Fallen King’s pet caught a whiff of the delectable smell of Perseus’ blood, which was still pouring from his eyes. That would make it all the more easier for the hounds to find him.

            He drew his Stygian Iron sword, a primal gleam lighting up his eyes. “Ready or not, Perseus, here I come!” He spread his wings, which were mutilated scraps of white feathers that clung to a ragged bone structure, barely there and only capable of serving as a fear mechanism.

“Come out come out wherever you are!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of update streaks. I already have this story written out, so I'm just going back and spell-checking stuff. Sorry if it feels like I'm spamming you but I really liked this chapter and wanted to update as soon as possible.


	12. Throw His Shadow on the Floor

_It is wonderful how much time good people spend fighting the devil._

_If they would only expend the same amount of energy loving their fellow men, the devil would die in his own tracks of ennui._

_-Helen Keller_

\----Ω----

 

           

            “My Lord, there have been fallen angels detected in our general vicinity.”

            “New recruits? Excellent. Have them brought to me,” the young man replied smoothly, grinning. His hair was a sandy blond, neatly combed and styled to perfection, and his eyes were bluer than arctic ice, only colder. He was lounging on a throne that was beautifully carved, however it was almost as gruesome as the gleam in the man’s eyes. Angels opened their mouths in silent screams, tears streaming down their faces as they struggled to hold the throne up. It was a work of art, nonetheless, and even though he was sitting rather casually, there was no mistake that he was the one in charge here.

            He wore a white suit, much like the formalwear of other angels, however this one had been through hell and back, and quite literally. Its cuffs were torn and frayed, and the material had darkened into a grungy grey color, like ashes had been smeared all over it. Jagged rips scoured the sleeves and pant legs, and his tie had been sliced to ribbons. He still wore it despite this, and that gave him an even more sinister air, not to mention the skeletal wings that splayed behind him, with feathers clinging to the bone structure and ragged flesh for dear life. He hadn’t yet dismissed the woman who’d brought the news, and it was quite plain to see that she was shaking where she stood, yet she dared not leave his presence without his say-so. He gave her another once-over and gave his wrist a dismissive flick, and she scurried out of sight with a hurried, “Thank you, Lord Lucifer.”

            “Demons. Filthy things, really, isn’t that right honey?” Lucifer asked in a silky voice, the words directed to a teenaged boy that was sitting on the considerably smaller throne next to him. It was plain and simple, much unlike the work of art that was Lucifer’s throne, but there was clearly an aspect to it that made well assure that the person sitting on it was held in high esteem.

            “Of course. Whatever you say,” the boy’s voice was monotone, and to the casual observer he was quite stunning. His black hair was neatly trimmed and styled in a way that was nearly identical to Lucifer’s, and rather than him wearing a white suit like the other angel, he was wearing a neat, charcoal black suit that had two slits on the back to accommodate his equally black wings. From afar, he was lounging on his throne like how Lucifer was doing, but upon closer inspection it was revealed that he was actually slumped in the seat, seeming exhausted more mentally than physically. When one got over the beauty of his face and looked past that, they would most certainly be horrified. His eyes were dead, like a dead body’s. Though a stunning sea green, there was absolutely no life contained within them, a dullness replacing the sheen that was normally associated with a person’s eyes. His face was neutral and calm, but after seeing his eyes one would associate that with the serenity of a corpse in a casket. His skin was healthy, a very beautiful tan gracing it, but his mind was clearly not.

            “Oh, Percy, sweetie, you don’t have to agree with _everything_ I say,” Lucifer crooned, beginning to card his fingers through the young man’s feathers affectionately.

            “I apologize. I’ll try harder next time.”

Lucifer frowned at this and paused with the stroking, muttering a small, “It needs work in the social division,” but then gave a little shrug and continued. It was an intimate thing, grooming an angel’s feathers, but Percy seemed fine with it, eventually leaning into the touch and purring, but not in the way most would think; he was actually _purring_ , a low rumble filling his chest as he eagerly pushed his wing against Lucifer’s fingers. It was eerie, though, because despite his displays of enjoyment, Percy’s face was still blank, his eyes still so very empty. Lucifer checked his watch and halted his movements, despite the black-winged angel’s indignant cry, and rose from his seat, brushing his tattered suit off.

            “I have to go to a meeting, and I want you to stay right here until I come back. Got it, sweetheart?” Lucifer asked gently.

            “Okay,” Percy huffed, reluctantly withdrawing his wings and folding them behind his back, “But be back soon.”

            “Cross my heart,” Lucifer replied as a grin broke out across his face, giving the angel a peck on the nose and turning to leave, but not before Percy captured his lips with his own in a shy, chaste kiss. The fallen angel cast a glance back as he rounded the corner out of the throne room and found Percy reclining and getting comfortable. He wished he could stay with him, but business was business, and even Hell had order to maintain. The Fallen King traveled down the hallway with a pep in his step, greeting everyone who passed him despite their wide, frightened eyes, and his footsteps were muffled by the long, red Oriental rug that cushioned the floor. The walls stretched high over his head and tapered, making dazzling arches like that of a cathedral, crisscrossed with wooden beams. Nearly blindingly white pillars supported the lower parts of the ceiling, and the marble was chiseled to look as if pythons were wrapped around the lengths of them, their thick bodies constricting and their cold, milky white eyes watching intently.

            Portraits hung on the walls, all of them being classic Christian and Jewish paintings only…darker. Adam being devoured by a two headed dog, his eyes wide as its two mouths ripped into his flesh, his hand reaching out desperately towards the God that was only a hairbreadth away. The Last Supper was overrun by demons, stabbing and hacking at the Apostles, and a stone-faced Lucifer watched from the side as a hellhound leapt for Jesus’ throat. The candles on the menorah had all gone out, and all of the huddled masses of Jews were slaughtered by the things that went bump in the night, unable to see them coming as smoke trailed from the charred wicks. Moses and all of the others escaping Egypt, as well as their pack animals, were dragged under the churning waves of the Red Sea as reptilian scales and glowing yellow eyes flashed under the surface.

            Lucifer didn’t even bat an eye at them as he passed, though when he saw the twisted Michelangelo he whistled, a high-pitched shrill that echoed throughout the giant building. Almost immediately a two-headed dog leaped from the shadow that a column had been casting, two snarling Rottweiler heads leering at him, though his glowing red eyes showed clear respect for his owner.

            “Good boy, Cerberus,” he said and the two heads barked in unison, creating two eerie and clashing pitches that would send the hairs standing up on the back of any normal person’s neck. Cerberus trailed behind Lucifer now, his heads swaying back and forth in search of threats that he could devour. The two didn’t linger in the main corridor for long, veering into another passage that branched off of it. The hellhound balked at the end of the hallway when he saw the large, arched golden door that awaited him at the end, their surfaces inlaid with sharp, jagged obsidian shards that created the haunting mosaic of a nine-headed dragon. Lucifer clucked for him and he let out a low whimper, slinking after his master while keeping all four eyes trained on the dragon, as if it would leap out of the door and tear both he and Lucifer to shreds. Nine sets of ruby eyes glared down at them as Lucifer threw the doors open with much bravado, swaggering inside as the doors swung shut behind them, startling Cerberus and leaving his scrabbling to catch up.

            This chamber was gigantic, nearly rivaling the size of the throne room. A long table extended from one end to the other, and within the seats sat an array of Lucifer’s most trusted advisors. That was only a title for them, really, for if you were smart you didn’t trust anyone but yourself, and Lucifer was quite aware of that. These “advisors” didn’t know half of Lucifer’s plans, for if those sorry excuses for angels managed to capture them, they wouldn’t be able to torture everything out of them. That was how every villain fell in the…rather entertaining…mortal movies, and Lucifer was keen on making sure that that wasn’t the case with his operation, which was much more foolproof. All eyes of varying colors and degrees of demonic appeal turned to him, and he grinned coldly as he sat at the head of the table, on a high-backed wooden chair that was almost as intricately carved as his throne. Cerberus curled up at his feet, though it was more out of want for any table scraps that fell than out of loyalty, for there were refreshments being passed around by quivering servants who were trying to hide their fear. Lucifer found them amusing.

            “Down to business,” he announced, steepling his hands under his chin. “Can I have a status report on the recruiting front? I was informed that new ones were sensed by our scouts earlier.”

            A yellow-eyed, hawk-nosed man rose from his seat, his posture erect and his expression wicked. “Indeed, my Lord. In fact, the group was so tremendous that it could be the key to defeating Heaven once and for all,” he replied in a cool, collected voice. He was Lucifer’s greatest commander, a fallen death angel named Kronos, and if Lucifer was somehow captured or destroyed, Kronos would take his place and would fulfill the position nearly flawlessly. He was a little overconfident, though, for he underestimated Heaven far too much and too often; Heavens army was by far the most powerful in the three planes of reality, and Kronos thought that they could win with head-on attacks. No, they had to be sneaky about it. Corrupt them from the inside; Kronos had been a part of the Watchers, the original angels that fell from Heaven after the Great War, and he knew just how powerful a group of angels could be if they still had God’s gifts.

            “Oh? Tell me more.” Kronos looked happy to oblige.

            “There are about three hundred fallen angels as of now, all led by a redhead named…Rachel.”

            “Rachel,” Lucifer repeated, rolling the name off of his tongue. It didn’t really sound like the name of a fallen angel who was strong-minded enough to control countless other fallen angels, though the name was angelic. “Have our scouts confronted her yet?”

            “No, my Lord; her group is approaching from the east and will arrive in Los Angeles in approximately seventeen point thirty-three hours. The scouts are trailing them, my Lord, and will alert us if they suddenly change course. As of now their trajectory is strictly towards Los Angeles, with no signs of them straying from the path.”

            “Excellent, you may be seated.” Kronos sat, his face glowing as he wallowed in his own pride. Another weakness of his. Pride was what caused Lucifer and the Watchers to fall in the first place, which is why it’s called the root of all sin, and the fallen angel was keen on making sure that they didn’t repeat the same mistake twice. “Medusa, how are our…guests doing?”

            A fallen angel of nature, formerly known as Leviathan, rose from her seat. In her true form she was a seventy foot-long emerald green serpent, with blazing yellow eyes and a ferocious howl, but her human form was no less intimidating. Her hair was a mass of hissing and writhing snakes, their slit eyes darting back and forth as their tongues flicked in and out, tasting the air. Those blazing yellow eyes that Lucifer admired while fighting the War in Heaven had transferred to her human form, capable of turning any human to stone. She was the respected documenter and “handler” of all of the prisoners, including the five special guests that lay locked away within the depths of the castle. She was a higher-up and didn’t do meager tasks of keeping watch over them; that was her assistant Kampê’s job. She merely hosted little “sessions” that the prisoners loved, considering the fact that their bloodcurdling screams, of joy most likely, could sometimes be heard from the upper floors.

            “Marvelous, my Lord,” she replied, and even though she didn’t have the classic snakelike dialect of holding out her ‘s’ sounds, her cold and calculating way of speaking was much worse, and the hissing of her hair was enough compensation for it. “Their last meals were before they were taken and it’s a joy when Kampê informs me that one of them has died _yet again_ from starvation! It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s glorious.”

            “I’ll have to go down and witness one of their deaths myself. Thank you, Medusa.” The snake woman sat back down, a chilling content creeping over her face. “Have anything to add, Porphyrion?” He was Kronos’ second in command, technically making him the heir to the throne if Kronos perishes, even though he was Nephilim. The son of a fallen angel of nature and the long since locked away demon, Chaos. He and his brothers were the offspring of angels and demons, and were more powerful than if one of their parents had been human; Nephilim were always born twisted. Always born evil. Unlike demons, Porphyrion was wickedly intelligent as well as brawny and broad-shouldered. He’d crawled out of Hell seeking revenge for the death of his mother, Gaea, at the hands of the heavenly host, for she’d been capturing angels of nature and sapping their powers over the elements, turning herself into the next Mother Earth. Uriel had struck her down personally, and that’s probably the reason why Medusa lets them “have fun” together most of the time rather than wasting her own energy on the Archangel.

            “Nothing, sire, everyone is doing fantastic within the ranks, and with Rachel’s army soon joining ours we will have nothing short of a heavenly host of our own. Hellish host, if you may,” the burly giant grunted brusquely. Lucifer nodded, stroking Cerberus’ ears with one hand while cradling his head in the other. It would be entertaining to most, but for Lucifer these meeting were always so dull; why only talk about torturing people when you could be out doing the torturing?

            “Does anyone have something else to add?” The fallen angel felt his interest tear itself into even tinier shreds as one small demon raised his hand. He had a scar down one side of his face, however the most gruesome part was that he looked like a blond-haired, blue-eyed Frankenstein, jagged paths of stitches zigzagging round his body. The number 666 was burned into his chest.

            “Please excuse me for my opinion, my Lord, but I think I have an idea that’s better than not feeding the Archangels at all,” Luke Castellan said.

 

\----Ω----

 

            He was cold. So very cold. And numb. But how could he be cold if he was numb? He was also in a lot of pain but at the same time he was numb. How could that be possible? He could move slightly but that was it. He was hungry. And thirsty. He’d been obsessing over the last thing he’d eaten so much that he could remember every single torturous detail about that Caesar salad. When had he eaten that Caesar salad? He didn’t know but it must’ve been a long way away because he was hungry. And cold. And numb.

 

\----Ω----

 

            “Honeybun, I was wondering if you could do something for me,” Lucifer crooned as he combed Perseus’ greasy black hair to perfection.

            “Anything for you,” Percy replied as he gazed into the mirror blankly. A black-haired, green-eyed angel who was sobbing blood and forming words that were unheard to Lucifer stared back. The devil did, however, take notice, and he placed his hands on either of Percy’s shoulder’s smiling at him in the mirror and watching as his reflection sobbed and begged without sound. Mirrors were always said to reflect the soul of the onlooker back at them. This was Perseus at the moment, however that was only on the inside. It would be most inconvenient is he had that bloody, blubbering mess following him around everywhere. So Lucifer had improvised, made the absolute perfect Percy and discarding all of the other things that were unnecessary. These things included but were not limited to: his habit of badmouthing authority, his rebelliousness, his cocky comebacks and corny humor, his good humor (because Lucifer really didn’t want the angel cracking jokes while he was in the process of executing a nonbeliever), and most of all, his flight. The messenger angel’s wings had been clipped, and even though the feathers would soon grow back, Lucifer was glad that his perfect little Percy wasn’t flying around unchecked, for he couldn’t fly after him with the damaged wings that he had.

            What Lucifer left behind was his good nature, his politeness, the loyalty that was so hardwired into his brain that Lucifer couldn’t’ve removed it if he tried, his compassion, his affection, and every other ability that assisted him in normal everyday functions. This left Perseus completely and totally cowed, a tame and mellow version of the wild beast that the fallen angels had dragged in three weeks ago. It gave Lucifer pride knowing that he had hobbled and broken in such a free-spirited angel, even though that same angel was raging underneath the surface, as the mirror showed.

            He found, with a jolt, that he actually enjoyed having Percy around. No longer was the angel just to give Lucifer satisfaction in knowing that he could have something that his brother had always wanted, but rather a constant companion that Lucifer hadn’t known he needed until now. He’d resume their pleasant company later, because first he had a job for Percy to do.

            “I need you to deliver something for me, but you need to follow these specific directions…”

 

\----Ω----

 

            Hunger. Cold. Agony. Numbness. Hunger. Cold. Agony. Numbness.

            Then the door opened and all at once he was thrust back into his own body, jerked into a reality that was far too gruesome to comprehend. He whimpered softly, knowing that Medusa came up with a new form of torture every session, but he didn’t hear the hissing of snakes. Perhaps it was under a turban of some sort, but he didn’t dare look for fear that he’d simply lost his hearing and direct eye contact would only result in much more suffering. Every limb, from his neck to his arms, legs, and wings, was chained to the floor, with absolutely no leeway. It forced him into an uncomfortable position, and there was a kink in his back that was driving him insane. His wings had pins and needles and his fingers and toes were most likely purple, but the worst part of it all was the unbearable hunger. It clawed at his stomach at first, a mighty monster that demanded sustenance, but after the first time he died of starvation, it began to putter out to become a meek and fragile creature that had lost all hope but was still begging and pleading, still crying softly for food and water.

            “Don’t hurt me,” he rasped, his eyes screwed shut as he prepared for the crack of a whip and for the taunting degrading words that would soon fall from the snake woman’s lips. “Please.” Instead he found something being pushed against his lips, and as soon as he breathed in the scent all his mind could think of was _yesfoodgoodyumneedwantmine._ Without even considering the fact that it was most likely poisoned, he wolfed it down, nearly taking the spoon with it. A hand brushed against his cheek and he knew that it wasn’t Medusa, because this hand felt _warm._ This hand felt like home. His eyes flew open and there, in all of his black-winged glory, knelt Perseus.

            Light was spilling from the doorway, causing the side facing him to be mostly cloaked in shadow, but he knew. He _knew._ Hot tears to spilled over his cheeks, this time of joy and not of pain, and he couldn’t managed to make his throat work fast enough between mouthfuls of food to tell Perseus how grateful he was and how indebted he was and how when they got back to Heaven he’d promote Perseus to not only be his messenger but to be beloved mate and companion who he would cherish until the day he crumbled to dust. All of these words and thanks and hushed whispers of affection were bouncing around in his head as the small, feeble creature that was his hunger wept happily as his stomach was, for the first time, filled. Throughout the time he was fed, he had been too concentrated on his thoughts to look much, but when the distraction of food was gone and the words were just resting at the tip of his tongue he looked. He actually looked this time, and when he saw how dead Percy’s eyes were, he knew that he was doomed.

            It was Percy alright, for monsters couldn’t replicate the heavenly grace that Michael could sense was curled within Percy’s form, but that grace wasn’t glowing as brightly and lively as it used to. In fact, instead of bouncing this way and that, like the Archangel was used to seeing, it was pooled low within the angel’s chest, lying dimly and bleakly like a beaten horse who’d given up trying to fight its rider.

            “Percy?” he whispered.

            “I’m not supposed to talk to you,” the angel replied flatly, in a voice that was so blank that Michael closed his eyes to just take it in. Lucifer had actually done it. He used the trick that he’d used on the countless angels in Heaven, a mind trick older than time; selective free will. The victim still had the freedom to do normal things like eat, go to the bathroom, and hold up conversation, but their mind was completely and totally controlled by the caster of the spell, in this case, Lucifer. Michael could see just how submissive and suggestible his messenger angel was, but that was before he flicked on the lights. Michael didn’t even know his cell had lights.

            He was dressed in jeans that hugged his hips and calves, to the point where it was a miracle that the angel had been able to kneel beside the Archangel at all. His shirt was a white button down that had three buttons undone, a teasing glimpse of a broad, tan chest peeking out.

           "Percy are you okay?"

           "I'm fine."

           "Are you sure?"

           "Lucifer is treating me nicely. He is a kind and forgiving lover."

Michael felt like his heart had been shredded into a million pieces and he wept silently. He attempted to speak, but words still failed him. He’d been too late. Now Percy was attached to someone else and that someone else just so happened to be the Fallen King. If they ever got out of this, Percy may never want to be with anyone else ever again. Michael could only imagine what the angel was being subjected to, and he felt himself falling into a void.

“Percy?” he tried again, and despite the fact that it was against his orders, the messenger angel turned to look at him, fully attentive. He wet his chapped and peeling lips before asking, “Are you happy?”

            “Of course,” Percy replied in monotone. He didn’t sound happy. He didn’t look happy. He looked like a marionette being told to dance for the show, and Michael wouldn’t put it past Lucifer to tie strings to the angel’s arms and legs.

It made his throat constrict, and before he could say anything else Perseus closed the light and shut the door, plunging the Archangel back into darkness and cold once more. Hunger wouldn’t be far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback


	13. Night's Plutonium Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support!

_“Everyone is a moon and has a dark side,_

_which he never shows to anybody.”_

_-Mark Twain_

\----Ω----

 

Jason was vaguely aware of Piper’s reassuring hand rubbing his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. His head was pounding, so badly that he could barely hear his wife’s soothing words over the bellowing of his own heart. He didn’t dare tell Piper of this, though; she already had enough on her mind with all of this Lucifer crap, and she didn’t need to be worried about the health of her klutz of a husband. Somehow he’d managed to get sick through all of this, which was odd, considering he’d only really been around his friends. Perhaps he’d gotten some weird stomach shit from the wackos in the Whisper. That was the best bet, so he sighed through dry heaves and wiped the corner of his mouth while he flushed the toilet.

            “You okay, honey?” Piper asked, her brows furrowing as she saw the haggard look on her husband’s face. He looked beyond exhausted, his eyes sunken and with dark shadows under them. He didn’t know the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. In Heaven, maybe, but he couldn’t remember when that was. A few weeks, maybe? A month? All he knew was that Percy had been missing for three weeks, and for all the Golden Swords knew, he was dead. Jason found that hard to believe, though, since Percy had immortality, however Lucifer was a fallen Archangel, so God knows what he could do to the poor messenger angel.

            “No,” he replied, not wanting to lie any more than he had to as he brushed his teeth to keep bad throw-up breath at bay.

            “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

            “No,” he repeated, sighing at his worn-down reflection in the mirror. “It’s just a stomach bug. It’ll pass.” He felt really dizzy, though, and stumbled to the bed without another word. Piper stared on with increasing concern; between this sickness and the bouts of insomnia that was continuously becoming more frequent, she was worried for her husband’s well-being. Jason didn’t want to be coddled, though, so she’d stepped back from the whole thing and allowed him to deal with this in his own fashion, whatever that may be. She stayed immersed within her thoughts for a long while before flicking the bathroom lights off and entering the stark room that they shared in the Golden Swords’ headquarters.

            Jason was curled up, a lump on the bed that could easily be mistaken for a sleeping form, but when Piper spooned him, she could hear his ragged breathing and racing heart that showed just how awake he was. “Do you want me to bring a garbage can?” she asked, referring to the fact that Jason could chuck his guts at any given moment.

            “S’not necessary,” her husband slurred drowsily, and Piper was glad that he at least _sounded_ like he was going to go to sleep.

            “Okay,” she replied softly, heaving herself up to give him a kiss on the forehead. It was burning with fever, but that’s what came with the stomach flu, so she didn’t think much of it as she lay back down and tried to get some rest, though Jason’s rocketing temperature was keeping her high on alert. She buried her face into his neck and he mumbled something incoherent in a way that Piper would consider cute if it hadn’t sounded so exhausted. He smelled of salt sweat and summer rain, and it would’ve been comforting had it not felt like her cheek was on a furnace. It was to the point where she actually drew away, rubbing her face and she tried to make out Jason’s facial expression in the dark.

            “Bear with me for a moment,” she ordered and Jason grumbled a bit about needing to get sleep, but they both knew that that wasn’t going to come tonight. She used to be an angel of healing. She should be good at identifying this shit. She pulled up memories of her training and did the proper sickness examination, though she made it more intimate in order to make sure it didn’t feel like strictly business. She kissed the back of Jason’s hand. Burning hot. She kissed his cheek. Like the fires of hell. She kissed every place she could reach that wasn’t sexual, and everywhere she kissed the skin was fiery with fever. “I need to take your temperature.”

            “What does it matter?” Jason sighed, rubbing his eyes a bit, “It’s a fever, that’s all.”

            “In all of my time as an angel of healing and as a nurse in a hospital, I have never encountered something like this,” Piper admitted quietly, and the tension in the room thickened considerably. The fallen angel was becoming increasingly worried for her husband’s health, and as she shuffled to the bathroom to get a thermometer, countless numbers of sicknesses, both angelic and human, presented themselves as if on a conveyer belt in her mind. They came forward, presented their symptoms, and then were whisked away as Piper eliminated them.

            When she came back, Jason was sitting up, propped up on a pillow. She went over to flick on the lights and saw just how uncomfortable Jason was. His eyes were glassy and dull with the heat, and his expression was a bit sunken, his brows knitting and his brow crinkling. He was breathing heavily, and he gave Piper a very tired look as she approached, her heart roaring in her ears.

            “Open up,” she ordered and inserted the thermometer under his tongue as he did so. It was an electric one that told the temperature on a small calculator-like screen, and she stroked Jason’s hair reassuringly as they waited for the temperature to register. The little scar on his lip was quirking as he held the thermometer in his mouth, and she just wanted to kiss it. Kiss all of his pain away because she was a wife and that’s what she needed to do for her husband, and what her husband should do back if the roles were reversed. The thermometer began to rage, beeping and blaring out an alarm that told Piper that Jason was sick.

            She slipped the instrument out of her husband’s mouth and looked at it. Her heart nearly stopped, the only sound in the room being Jason’s ragged breathing and the silence that screamed at them. “Jason,” she whispered.

            “Yeah?” he rasped, his eyes shining with an unhealthy sheen as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands wringing nervously in his lap as he saw Piper’s expression.

            “You…” she paused, swallowing hard as her heart leapt into her throat, pounding the beat of life that bellowed in her ears and was so loud that she thought Jason could hear it.” You should be dead.” She showed the thermometer reading to him.

One hundred seven degrees.

            “Your cells should be shutting down and dying right now, and you’d have so much brain damage that you wouldn’t be able to understand what I’m saying right now,” she whispered.

            “That…that can’t be true,” Jason stammered, his eyes going wide as he squinted at the thermometer like it was playing a trick on him. His glasses were on the nightstand, though, so he probably could only see a mass of color. “It’s broken, that’s all.”

            “Jason it hurts to touch you for long because your skin is so hot,” Piper breathed. “How are you still alive? What’s going on?” But that question would never be answered because at that moment Jason slumped, his eyes rolling back into his head.

 

\----Ω----

 

            _“Hello, Jason,” said a familiar voice. He was in a restaurant of some sort, at a table for two. He couldn’t really make out the interior, but it must’ve been fancy because he was wearing a tuxedo. He felt really hot, though, and there was sweat trickling down his forehead and soaking his body, making his formalwear stick uncomfortably to his back. The table was set with fine china and silverware, as well as silken napkins and half-full champagne glasses. He grabbed the one closest to him and downed it in one gulp, the cold of the beverage a godsend and immediately cooling his entire body off, though he had no idea how that was possible. In fact, his entire body was feeling cold as of now, and he shivered in stark contrast to the heat he was feeling before._

_Across from him, there was a young man that he was pretty sure he knew but he couldn’t put his finger on. Heck, as he peered over the lovely bouquet of lilies that served as the centerpiece, he was beginning to become frustrated that he didn’t know this face. He knew it, he did, but it was as if something, or someone, was preventing him from remembering. He had neatly styled black hair, and his eyes were a more navy blue than what Jason’s eyes were. His facial structure was fairly Greek, and he’d look a lot like Percy if he didn’t have such a chilling expression. The Roman numeral two hung from a cord around his neck, the golden shape settling snugly against his breast. He, too, was wearing a suit, though he made Jason jealous at how natural he looked in it, but unlike Jason’s suit, his was a pure white that was nearly blinding. Was it him or did he have wings? One of them looked damaged. When he looked up again, though, they were gone, and Jason singled it out as a trick of the light._

_“Do I know you?” he blurted, and the young man smiled, a crooked thing that was a little off-putting._

_“I’m afraid not, but it’s better that way,” he replied, and that all the more made Jason nervous. There was something terribly wrong going on as of now, but Jason’s mind was too murky to figure out what was happening. When did he get to this restaurant? Where was Piper and the others? It was odd, but Jason didn’t have it in him to look into it further._

_“Why am I here?” he asked. He had so many more questions bouncing around inside of his head that it hurt slightly, a throbbing pain that Jason didn’t think should be associated with thinking too much. It was actual pain, and Jason wondered what was causing such a thing. He was in a restaurant with this young man, and when he rubbed his forehead he didn’t have anything embedded within it._

_“To talk, of course. Here, eat.” The young man gestured to his plate and suddenly it was filled to the brim with food. When did they order their food? Jason must’ve missed it. Cautiously, he dug into his food, which tasted fine. He just found it odd that the calamari tasted the same with and without the marinara sauce. In fact, the calamari tasted the same as the champagne that he downed once more. Wait, didn’t he already drink his champagne to cool off? The waiter probably came without him noticing._

_“So what are we going to talk about?” Jason asked when he was finished eating, and it wasn’t that the meal was unenjoyable, it was just…odd. It hadn’t really tasted or smelled like anything, and something was a little bit off about this whole situation. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, for something was blocking the answers whenever he tried to reach out into his mind and grasp them._

_“I’m about to go against my orders as of now,” the young man told him. “I’m Giel, by the way.” That name sent spikes of emotions within his subconscious. His body_ knew _that name, but Jason was pretty sure he didn’t._

_“That’s a nice name,” he replied._

_“Thank you, and I’m going to warn you that the next few…months, years maybe, will be painful. So I’m going to ask you once to make sure that you are, indeed, okay with your suffering and will now relinquish your control to me out of your own free will: May I come in?”_

_“Come in where?” Jason asked. When there was no reply, which was really, really creepy, he said slowly, “Yeah, sure.” And that was the end of that._

\----Ω----

 

            Leo knew that something was wrong as soon as Piper came slamming on his and Calypso’s door. He knew it as they ran to get the others and they all sprinted back to her and Jason’s room, with the fallen angel’s eyes wild and wide with fear and anxiety. He knew it as he saw Jason lying slumped onto the bed, only the whites of his eyes seen as they stayed rolled back into his head. He knew it as he was burned by mere contact with his friend’s skin. Annabeth was pacing, trying to find solutions as Piper relayed the entire story to them; how Jason had been having bouts of insomnia and how he began to throw up, eventually boasting a one hundred seven fever. They took his temperature again just in case and it had boosted to a one hundred eight, yet Jason’s heart was still beating strongly and healthily.

            Leo, Reyna, Nico, and Will carried Jason to the bathtub, while Piper, Calypso, and Annabeth ran as fast as they could to the Golden Sword’s huge walk-in freezer, coming back in record time as they dumped several bags of ice into the tub whilst running the faucet on the coldest temperature it could go. Leo’s heart was roaring, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth where he’d worried his lip too hard in between his teeth and had rendered it raw. Jason was heavy, but with the help of the other three he was holding up surprisingly well under the boy’s incredible weight. And that was all muscle. Once the tub was near-full with ice and freezing water, they unceremoniously dumped Jason into the tub, jumping back as they expected the boy to leap out with a gasp of surprise.

            Except that didn’t happen.

            The water actually steamed where Jason’s body touched it, and yet his friend still didn’t wake up. Piper was in a panic, blubbering and crying as she buried her face into Annabeth’s neck, her shoulder’s heaving with her sobs. Annabeth stayed silent and rubbed her back, unable to say anything reassuring because they would all be lies. Everything was _not_ okay, everything _wouldn’t_ be fine, and there was every single reason in the world to be worried right now. Leo, Nico, and Will talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited. It was all they could do, really. The rest was up to Jason now. Leo was panicking. Severely. But he didn’t want to work Piper up even more. Calypso and Reyna had come to Annabeth’s aid, and all were trying to console the fallen angel by bringing up funny experiences from the past, though nothing seemed to be working.

            “This is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Nico growled, his hands constantly in motion, whether they be running through his long, disheveled hair or wringing his hands feverishly.

            “You need a haircut,” Will snorted, and the fallen death angel gave him a withering glare, though his boyfriend shrugged nonchalantly. It was merely an attempt at humor. Tension was so thick in the air that Leo could almost taste it, and he felt as if the fear, the fear of losing his best friend, would consume him. He was just thinking about other things that would save Jason, including shooting him up with every drug and medicine available, when there was a sudden sharp intake of breath. Everyone, bodies wound tighter than bowstrings, whirled around as their blond friend sat up sharply, brushing his sopping hair from his eyes. He spluttered a bit, spitting out water, and then looked down at his hands, smiling as if they pleased him. Nobody talked. Nobody moved.

            Jason held his hands up to the light, his grin growing ever so wider as he clenched his fists and then fanned his fingers out. His feet rose from the water and he wriggled his toes, one foot at a time. Still, nobody talked. Then Jason turned to them, frowning like he’d just realized they were there, and then he grinned.

            “Glad to be alive,” he said addressing everyone in turn. There was a problem, though. Jason didn’t speak in that octave. It was Jason’s voice, sure, but he didn’t speak as high as this, not to mention the fact that his eyes seemed more navy than sky blue as of now. Seeing the unnerved looks on his companion’s faces, Jason told them, “Probably just a side-effect.” He then made a face at the sound of his own voice and the entirety of the tension, so overwhelmingly thick that you could cut it with a knife, drained out of the room all at once as the entirety of the team melted into laughter.

            They helped Jason out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel, and no sooner did he turn did Piper throw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. They kissed, and everyone crooned at how adorable they were being, though Nico grumbled about them getting a room. Will elbowed him in the ribs and the fallen angel grumbled some more, and just like that everything was back to normal. It was just a big scare, that’s all, and everything was going to be just fine.

            Except it wasn’t. The next morning, Piper came to them, sobbing. The other half of the bed had been empty when she woke up.

 


	14. No Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Lucifer/Percy fluff (?)

_“Dressed in the skin,_

_the wolf strolled into the pasture with the sheep._

_Soon the little lamb was following him about,_

_and was quickly led away to slaughter.”_

 

 _-_ _Aesop’s Fables, “The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing”_

\----Ω----

 

            Lucifer woke up to a warm body next to him, and he smiled softly as he combed his fingers through the black feathers that were draped over him like a blanket. His partner shivered but didn’t wake, and Lucifer moved to run his hands through the equally black, mussed hair. This was all his for the taking, and it made him a bit power-crazed, even though he was in charge of the second-largest military in all of Heaven and Hell.

            He nuzzled his partner’s neck, breathing in the smell of the sea that he was always getting drunk on, and other began to stir, his eyelids fluttering and eventually opening to reveal the most beautiful set of sea green eyes that Lucifer had ever seen. He shifted a bit from his position, his back pressed against Lucifer’s front with his wings draped over the man’s body, their legs tangled together under the sheets.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he mumbled, and the angel let out a soft hum in reply, stretching to get all of the kinks out. Lucifer watched the strong muscles of his back stretch and relax with a very ravenous gleam in his eye, tracing a finger over his sharp shoulder blades and the light imprints of his vertebrae. He eventually reached the place where wing fused with flesh, where the feathers were more rumpled and haphazard than the glossy neatness of the outer ones. The wings were one of the reasons why Lucifer preferred this partner over Lilith, his wife of many millennia. She’d been a joke, really; always too snobbish and whiny, wanting and wanting and wanting to the point where the King of Hell was considering throwing himself off a cliff.

            Perseus was different, though. All of his bad traits had been suppressed, and he was now left with a submissive and pliant mate that sent zings up and down his spine. He was quiet, respectful, and affectionate; the perfect image of a mate that Lucifer had for so long sought out. He’d never really belonged with a demon; demons didn’t get the concept of mates, for they were the usually the hit-and-run type. They didn’t settle down with one partner, but were in truth the embodiment of one night stands that usually ended with pregnancy, and that’s how demons kept their numbers up when soul counts were low. Lucifer was from Heaven originally, and craved that satisfaction that mates provided. Sure, his views of mates were slightly old-fashioned and traditional, but Perseus didn’t have a problem with it at all, so all was well. It used to be just to cause Michael that extra emotional pain, but now Lucifer allowed himself to indulge, and was greatly enjoying 

            He let out a huff when Perseus hoisted himself up, with many grunts and winces, and looked at the clock, groaning. “I think you overslept,” he grumbled sleepily in that gorgeous voice of his, his eyes half closed and adorably bleary.

            “I’m the King of Hell. Time will just have to wait,” Lucifer replied smoothly, and wrapped his arms around the angel’s middle, pulling him close once more. Perseus mumbled something incoherent and melted into the touch.

        He knew that the spell had been modified to perfection, and even though Perseus’ eyes still needed to look a little less…dead, at least he was now responsive and witty, with facial expressions to match.Lucifer smiled at this, and, with reluctance, got up from bed.

            Perseus let out an indignant huff at the loss of warmth before he got up as well. Lucifer turned and quirked an eyebrow, knowing fully well that Perseus was a fan of sleeping late, “You can stay in bed if you want.”

            “Nah, I’m hungry,” his mate replied. _You’re always hungry,_ the Archangel wanted to say, but refrained from it. “I’ll get that fallen angel cook Polybotes to make me some blue pancakes.” Lucifer knew that yes, Polybotes was a good cook, especially when he fried up some unsuspecting mortal and served it to the more traditional fallen angels and demons, however he didn’t like the way the fallen angel acted towards his lover. Rudely, yes, and he seemed keen to pounce on the poor thing if Lucifer kicked the bucket, and the Archangel wouldn’t put it past him to drug the pancakes.

            “Why don’t you go find Alcyoneus? Polybotes is more of the deep-fried barbeque type,” he suggested, knowing fully well that the other fallen angel was safer and more respectful to authority.

            “Even better! I just gotta take a shower,” he said and trekked across their huge master bedroom towards their master bathroom, though Lucifer was very, very happy to see that he was hobbling slightly. Their bathroom was almost, if not larger than the bedroom and contained a hot tub, regular tub, two stand-up showers, one shower/tub combo with an incorporated Jacuzzi, two toilets that came with seat warmers and a whole bunch of different settings, and a view of the Los Angeles skyline from a huge one-way window. Their quarters were the only personal room that contained any form of magic, as demonstrated by the fact that they were so far underground that any chance of seeing a skyline of any sort out of a window was impossible, on top of all the heavy warding against the heavenly host and their minions alike.

            “Mind if I join you?” Lucifer asked. 

          "I actually intend to get some bathing done, thank you very much."

 

\----Ω----

 

            Percy knew the halls of the palace well, even if the palace was underground. He walked in his black suit, which Lucifer insisted upon and he’d taken without question, with a regal air, and people bowed and curtsied when he passed. He was merely going to the kitchens to consult with the main cook there, Alcyoneus, about his blue pancakes. They’d become rather close, with Perseus’ bizarre orders and Alcyoneus’ bizarre desire for a challenge, and he was looking forward to the meal. He was still slightly sore but greatly content, though there was something inside of him that he just couldn’t pinpoint, a screaming and pounding that told him that no, he didn’t want this. But why ever not? Lucifer was a kind and loving mate who took good care of him, and in return Percy was determined to do the same.

            He was just about to descend the stairs into the kitchen when he was stopped by a fallen angel that he knew all too well. Polybotes. He was a good cook and brother of Alcyoneus, Otis, Encleadas, Ephialtes, Orion, Damasen, Mimas, Hippolytus, Clytius, Thoon, and Periboia, as well as half-brother to the demon Porphyrion. All of those fallen angels were a part of the Watchers, or the original third that fell from Heaven. They all still had their wings, or what was left of them, since Uriel couldn’t formally cut them off in the chaos of the War in Heaven. He was nice enough, but a little too touchy-feely for Perseus' liking.

      "Hello, sweetie," he crooned, emerging from the shadow of a pillar. Perseus ignored him and continued on, keeping his gaze locked ahead. “I'm surprised you're not busy following Lucifer around like a lost puppy.” The only thing that signaled Percy’s irritation was the fact that a muscle in his jaw jumped and his wings twitched slightly. Polybotes wasn’t going to be deterred that easily, though, and cut in front of him, grinning. His teeth were a bit yellowed and his eyes held that light that Percy could only pinpoint as pure malevolence, a light that he seldom saw in Lucifer’s eyes.

            “Please, let me through,” the black-winged angel ground out through clenched teeth. Sure, Polybotes was always rude, but never this much so. He certainly didn’t remark on his and Lucifer’s romantic life, thank you very much, or Percy would’ve taken to avoiding the fallen angel much sooner.

            “I could be better to you, you know,” Polybotes pointed out, his voice a serpent’s whisper that couldn’t be ignored, and took a step closer. Percy started at this and leapt back, finally allowing his wings to flare wide in a threatening position. He was taken _,_ dammit, and this fallen angel had no right to try and flirt with hom. The fallen angel was now showing off his plumage, and Percy realized that not only was he being flirted with, but propositioned as well. “I could show you things you’ve never even dreamed of.”

            “Leave me alone. I could report you for this,” Perseus snarled.

            “But you won’t, because you’re Lucifer’s perfect little bitch, and violence isn’t in your program.” Percy faltered, though he kept his eyes narrowed and his wings flared. He wouldn’t allow this grade-A d-bag get the best of him. Polybotes continued, circling around him like a vulture. “Clipped your pretty little wings, too. Such a shame.”

            “Shut up!” Perseus snapped, darting to get to the kitchens where he knew he’d receive sanctuary, but Polybotes snagged the collar of his suit and he stumbled, narly careening right into Polybotes' chest, but he managed to teist out of his grip.

            “I could take you away from this place, you know.” Perseus let out a panicked cry, trying to get around Polybotes, but the giant was too fast. Seriously, all he’d wanted were some pancakes. He didn’t sign up for this shit.

            “You sick son of a bitch!” Percy spat, beating his wings furiously to try and intimidate the fallen angel, but he wasn't surprised when it didn't work. It neither caused Polybotes to back down nor allowed the angel to take flight. He was completely and utterly helpless, though for some reason he couldn’t be mad at Lucifer for it, though that part of his head was screaming louder than ever before. “Lucifer will tear you to shreds!”

     "If you won't go willingly, I just might have to steal you.” Polybotes snarled, his hand clamping down on Percy's wrist. He was just beginning to drag Percy away when an ungodly roar ripped through the hallway. Polybotes whirled around, releasing Percy in the process, and the angel scrambled back, his teeth bared and his wings raised. Lucifer stood fifty yards away, his shoulders trembling with fury and his eyes completely consumed by black, merely bottomless pits, and his wings arched over him, much larger than Polybotes’ by far; they were the wings of an Archangel, and Archangels were not to be defied or crossed.

            Lucifer roared again, his torn and battered white suit giving him an even more sinister air, and for the first time Percy was genuinely afraid of him and his power. Polybotes was trembling, his wings brushing the ground in attempt to show obedience and submission, which Perseus found funny since it’s what he’d been insulted for five minutes ago, but it was doing no good in easing the fallen Archangel’s fury.

            “ _You don't touch him!"_ he bellowed and in an instant Polybotes was being hoisted into the air by his neck, his wings flailing uselessly as Lucifer bared fangs that had only just now slid from his gums. Gasping out apologies, Polybotes was going blue, and even though it wouldn’t kill him it sure as hell would be uncomfortable. Percy sneered at him when their eyes met, though inside he felt a twinge of pity for the creep; Lucifer’s wrath was a painful one, and nobody who suffered through it would be the same ever again. A small crowd had begun to assemble, drawn by the commotion, and it included Kronos, Lucifer’s commanding officer, and many of Polybotes’ siblings. Nobody, however, was stepping in, possibly for fear of punishment, but Perseus saw it in their eyes; they _liked_ this. They liked seeing the misfortune and pain of others, and as a few helped him to his feet and dusted him off, he couldn’t help but see them for what they really were; unholy beings that could kill and ravage like savage beasts and love it all the same.

            Lucifer dropped an unconscious Polybotes onto the floor and everyone clapped and jeered, spitting at the still form that would wake from the Healing Slumber soon enough.

            “Take him to Archangel Raphael’s cell. I’m sure _that_ sucker would like a word or two with him,” Lucifer growled lowly, an alpha wolf who’d protected their title and their pack. The Archangel’s eyes met Percy’s and the angel ran to him, the seriousness of the situation crashing down upon him. He could’ve been raped in that hallway. He could’ve been claimed by an angel he didn’t want claiming him. But as Lucifer held him close and nuzzled his neck as the crowd dispersed, the voice in his head told him that that had already happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter because angels, like birds, have mates and it was a whole bunch of fluff that made me make this strange sound that had my entire family wondering ‘tf is wrong with her’. I hope you like it!


	15. Bird and Bust and Door

_“Here in the forest, dark and deep,_

_I offer you eternal sleep.”_

_-Anonymous_

\----Ω----

 

            Los Angeles never really quieted, and as the sun dipped below the horizon and a smattering of stars emerged from their slumber, the city continued to hustle and bustle. Cars and taxis honked as they clustered at stoplights that never seemed to change, and the windows in apartments and stores were still alight. People rushed this way and that, racing to and fro on their journeys to nowhere, and the streets were alive with the clicking of heels and the babble of voices. A rainbow of fabric rustled, handbags were rifled through, memories were made, pockets were picked, friendships were forged, and sins were counted one by one. It was as corrupted as it was beautiful, and the blond young man could see why it had appealed so much to Lucifer.

            LA was neck and neck with New York City as they competed for the true title of “The City that Never Sleeps”, so it was wasn't such a supernatural occurrence that the young man was still out and about at this hour. Though it wasn’t as crowded as it usually was when the moon slept, he was still surrounded by tons of people milling about. Hopeful gamblers, flirting couples, aspiring musicians, and people looking for a good night out all congregated on this very sidewalk, very much unaware of one another as they kept their heads down low while making their way to their next gig or to the bar. The young man’s hood was pulled over his head, cloaking his face in shadow, and headphone cords ran from his ears to a device in his pocket, giving him the illusion of just a normal teenager on the street, possibly going to one of the local strip clubs or something of the like. Only when he passed under a streetlamp did the deception crumble to dust, because one look at his shadow would announce to the world that this man certainly was not human. Two gigantic wings sprouted from his shadow’s back, one of which’s feathers seemed a bit crooked and damaged, and the light seemed to wreathe his head in a halo, though any mortal who just so happened to notice singled it out as a trick of the eyes..

            His shadow was indistinguishable from the other people’s shadows as they meshed and blurred together on the sidewalk, and the young man was well aware that when the crowds began to thin, he had to take cover, lest his plumage be noticed. He knew where he was going, though; he’d finally pinpointed an exact location after three days of desperate searching. It was genius, he had to admit, but the next part of the plan that was going to be executed was even more brilliant. His angelic grace was hidden by the steady human glow that his vessel emitted, despite the fact that the soul that had previously inhabited the body had been locked away these previous eves, shoved down and contained despite its constant fighting. Every single demon and fallen angel was on guard for traces of angelic grace in the area so they could up and run at the first sign of the heavenly host snooping around, but wat if that grace was disguised? They didn’t think twice about little freaky coincidences that hinted towards seraph activity, even though he was pretty sure that Lucifer had told them to investigate everything. Looking at the street signs, he broke away from the crowd and veered onto an unlit side street, though any bystander would be able to see the blue glow of his eyes as they pulsed with hallowed power.

            Alone and separated from the masses, one would be able to really remark on how fluidly the young man moved, as if his feet never touched the ground and grace was etched into his genes. That last part was true, and the angel used it to his advantage, stalking through the shadows like a panther towards its prey, his footsteps never making a sound on the pavement. Then he heard voices up ahead, and he immediately clung to the wall, his blue eyes flashing with divine light for a single moment as he tilted his head to listen. From this distance, a normal human would never be able to overhear the conversation, but he was not what one would consider a “normal human”.

            “I’ve already told you no; neither I, nor my fallen angels will join your cause,” snapped a very feminine voice, and he sensed the tattered grace that must’ve lived within her. A fallen angel.

            “You’re making a big mistake,” a man growled in reply, demonic judging by the state that his soul was in. “He _will_ win, and you will be destroyed along with all the heavenly host.” The eavesdropper rolled his eyes at the words, knowing fully well that their army was nowhere near as powerful as it should be to achieve their goal.

            “I’m not on Heaven’s side. Or Hell’s. We are to remain neutral in this matter,” the young woman replied in a very irritable but formal tone, which made the young man immediately think ‘fallen fire angel’, since almost all of that group of angels was known for their incredibly hot-headed temper, though they were also known for their ability to reign them in.

            “Only cowards don’t pick sides,” the demon snarled, his tone accusatory. “Come with us and you’ll have a chance to live. Lucifer doesn’t like cowards.”

            “I’ll pass, thanks,” the fallen fire angel scoffed, her agitation almost tangible. “We’ll just be Hell’s goons, their infantry full of expendable soldiers. In no way are my fallen angels expendable, thank you very much.” The blond had to admit that he was confused; ‘my fallen angels’? What did that mean?

            “You should be willing to die for our cause! Heaven wronged you!”

            “Heaven did no such thing,” the female voice replied coolly, “We were acting insubordinately and therefore were cast out. I helped get everyone back on their feet and I go around making sure that they don’t nurse grudges, because grudges create things like _you_.” She made a disgusted sound and the demon growled low in his throat, a threat of a fight if the fallen angel didn’t back off. It was an empty warning, the eavesdropper knew, because fallen angels were one thousand times more powerful than demons, their shattered grace still more powerful than the souls of every demon combined.  He was beginning to put the pieces together now, from the context of the conversation and prior knowledge he’d picked up during his stay here. That fallen angel was Rachel.

            Rachel, the feisty fire angel who’d went against her parents’ orders all day every day, descending to Earth without orders, and mouthing authority. She’d been one hell of a basket case in Heaven, but on Earth…she was a legend. The fallen angel who harbored no envy or hatred of her home world, and therefore went around the country on foot to gather up others who had fallen, making sure that they weren’t corrupted and festering by their own emotions. She had a band that was at least three hundred strong and growing. They would be an unstoppable force if they decided to rebel, but were somewhat hippies, believing in peace and nonviolence, especially towards humans and angels. Demons seemed to be another matter altogether.

            “I will let Lucifer know of your fifty-first _consecutive refusal_ , and maybe this time he won’t be as merciful,” the demon cautioned menacingly, his voice revealing just how foul a creature he was as it sounded like several people talking at once. “Goodbye, my little Poughkeepsie.” There was a loud popping sound and the smell of sulfur reached the blond’s nose, which he wrinkled in disgust.

            “Yeah, right. You said that the last fifty times you came to me and you’re still here,” Rachel grumbled to herself, sounding even more fed-up than before, “And why do you keep calling me that?” Her receding footsteps signaled her departure. That was good, because little did the fallen angel know that the entrance to Lucifer’s underground castle was right underneath her. Demons couldn’t teleport; his disappearing had merely been the demon entering the castle, and Poughkeepsie just so happened to be the code word to get inside. The angel had been monitoring this very place for a while now, and his face broke out into a grin as he went over his plan once more.

            The disguised angel crept towards the place where he’d heard the conversation go down, looking around warily for any guards or security cameras. There was one, trained on the exact spot where the demon had been, and with a flick of his wrist the camera burst into flame, the wires sparking and crackling. He only had a certain amount of time left before the guards arrived, knowing that something was wrong if the camera powered down like that, and he ran to the spot, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

            “Poughkeepsie.”

 

\----Ω----

 

            Lucifer was enjoying himself immensely, considering he had an armful of affectionate mate. He was lounging on his throne with Perseus pliant and happy in his lap, nuzzling the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. His wings were wrapped protectively around the black-winged angel, who didn’t seem to mind as he snuggled into Lucifer’s chest and gave a happy chuff. The Fallen King was grooming Perseus’ feathers, picking out all the dirt and excess oils, from the beautiful black plumage. The messenger angel’s wings were gigantic, and had Lucifer not been an Archangel he almost certainly would be jealous of them. Then again, he’d never seen completely black wings before, and Lucifer’s blood boiled when he thought of all the prejudice his mate must’ve been subjected to. It made him growl low in his throat, and Percy gave him a concerned look before shrugging and returning to his task of diligently scenting Lucifer’s neck.

            The Archangel loved his mate, loved grooming his mate and listening to the content sighs; getting preened was like getting a massage for angels. He loved watching Percy smile, and even though his eyes were a bit glazed and lifeless, he was absolutely perfect in every way. He could see why Michael had eyes for him, and it made Lucifer all the more triumphant knowing that he could have the messenger angel and his eldest brother could not. He was absent-mindedly combing his fingers through the feathers when suddenly Perseus wriggled a bit when he scraped his fingers over the underside, which was obviously sensitive, much to the fallen Archangel’s glee.

            “Are you ticklish, Perseus?” Lucifer accused, quirking an eyebrow and smirking devilishly.

            “No,” the messenger angel replied, though he was grinning that cheeky smile that clearly stated he was lying, his slight dimples all the more endearing to the fallen angel. “Don’t do it or I might accidentally slap you. I’m the kind of person who goes into seizure mode when they’re tickled. And we’re on a _throne_ , mind you, so we don’t have room for that.”

            “Are you sure?” Lucifer asked, digging his fingers into the feathers and causing Perseus to thrash a bit, laughing.

            “Yes, I’m sure!” the angel cried, trying to get away from the sensation, but Lucifer’s wings held him in place. The Archangel was just about to exact the worst form of Tickle Torture (that sounds vaguely sexual, he thought) on his mate when the doors of the throne room flew open and Porphyrion stumbled inside.

            “There’s been a breach, sir!” the fallen angel bellowed, his spear in hand and his breastplate dangling haphazardly from his chest. Lucifer leapt to his feet so quickly that Perseus toppled off of his lap with a squeak of surprise, though the Archangel did check on his to make sure he was okay.

            “What do you mean by a breach?!” Lucifer snarled, his eyes flashing black for a moment as he raised his skeletal wings. He feared for his operation and didn’t want the whole thing to go up in flames, but his basic biology was screaming _protect mate, protect mate, protect mate._ The black winged angel was looking from Porphyrion to Lucifer and back again, his expression a bit terrified but clearly wanting to remain strong, a rock for the Archangel to lean on.

            “An unauthorized visitor has entered the castle, my Lord!” the demon replied shakily, knowing that the bearer of bad news had the chance of being destroyed in a fit of rage. It’d happened to two demons already. He certainly didn’t want to be next. Instead of replying, though, Lucifer drew his sword from its sheathe, five feet of Stygian Iron that was glowingblack, pulsing in time with the Archangel’s heartbeat. One of the most powerful weapons in all of Heaven and Hell at his disposal.

            “Well, what are you waiting for? Move out!” the Fallen King bellowed, and Porphyrion practically scrambled out of the room, thanking whoever was listening for the sparing of his life. The fallen Archangel snapped his fingers and no longer was he in his tattered white suit, but decked in full angelic armor. His breastplate was embellished with filigree and worn over a white tunic, with greaves and sandals and a roman belt, where he strapped his sword. He turned to Perseus and saw the hard-set resolve, and slight fear, in his mate’s eyes. “I’ll be back soon, honey, just got to deal with this,”  he said softly, kissing the angel’s forehead, however Perseus wouldn’t settle for just that and covered Lucifer’s lips with his own, drawing away all too quickly as Lucifer’s body ached with the loss of contact.

            “Be back soon. I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you if you die,” Perseus growled, and Lucifer chuckled before charging out of the throne room and towards the danger. The black-winged angel paced for a good minute before settling down onto his smaller throne, his fingers tapping against his thigh nervously as he awaited Lucifer’s return.

            The Archangel raced down the winding halls and passageways of the underground castle, his face hard-set and his eyes completely consumed by an inky black. Porphyrion ran ahead, leading the way, and more soldiers poured from the halls until there was an entire army thundering behind him, all hungry for blood. The intruder wouldn’t stand a chance, especially if it was a human unfortunate enough to say Poughkeepsie on the hidden teleportation pad, which was a thing of Cherubim creation and had been slightly modified by the brains of Lucifer’s operation. The Archangel’s head pounded and his blood leapt and roared like an animal as the army ran as one, feeling nostalgic of the War in Heaven, when he and his brothers and sisters had fought like a single being, so knowing of the other they didn’t even have to speak; they just _knew._ Of course, this army was a lot less coordinated, consisting more of demons than fallen angels, but they’d been trained to soldier ahead together, and that was all that mattered. Lucifer found that he’d missed the rush of adrenaline and the bloodlust bellowing in his ears, and if only he could still fly. Then it would be perfect.

            He’d have to cope for now, because at that moment Porphyrion called for a halt and the entirety of the combatants screeched to a stop, all eyes going to the lone figure that stood in front of them. The young man, who reeked of human, was cloaked in a hood, but the army could see the burning of blue eyes underneath it. Lucifer sensed the ever so miniscule glow of angelic grace within, and automatically knew that this wasn’t a human, this was an angel in a vessel. He’d only barely opened his mouth to call for his troops to step down when the angel raised his hand. A blast of force knocked the demons to their backs, and the fallen angels, who were immune to the grace, all grabbed their ears and screamed as the piercing whistle of an angelic voice ripped through the air.

            Lucifer, though, was unaffected, and he smirked at this angel’s audacity. He may be at full power, but Lucifer had once been an Archangel. He’d be weakened within the human body, unable to fly or to call upon reinforcements telepathically, and Lucifer smirked. That immediately faded when the angel took off his hood, revealing a face that was none other than Jason. Jason Grace the angel hunter. How this angel had managed to get the boy to say yes was a mystery, but that didn’t matter as Lucifer flicked his hand and the angel went flying into the far wall, so hard that it made an imprint within the plaster. A shame, Lucifer had liked that wall, and now the angel was going to have Hell to pay.

            “What gives you the audacity to come here?” Lucifer asked smoothly, his voice crooning and smooth, his serpent’s whisper that he’d used to lull Adam and Eve into a trance. The angel froze, and for a moment his overwhelming confidence was replaced by fear. It disappeared moments later, but that was all Lucifer had needed to see. The angel clambered to his feet, his eyes narrowing as the Archangel circled around him like a vulture ready to pick off his remains, but there was clear uneasiness in his expression, a hesitation that showed that he wasn’t as confident as he appeared. When he didn’t reply, Lucifer threw his head back and laughed a hearty laugh. “Did you, puny angel, actually believe that you alone could defeat me? I assume that Heaven has no idea what you’re doing as of now?” The angel averting his gaze was enough of an answer. “I have to admit, your trick with the vessel was very, very clever.” Lucifer raised his arm and the angel launched into the air, held suspended by his neck. “But not clever enough.”

            The army was beginning to come back to their senses, every single one of them snarling but wary of the angel’s power. They needn’t be, though, because Lucifer’s grace was overwhelming the other angel’s, tugging and pulling at the strands to test the waters and then consuming it. The angel wouldn’t be much of a problem for now. Porphyrion let out a bloodcurdling roar, his eyes blazing, and the others followed in suit until the room was alive with the shrieks and howls of bloodthirsty demons and fallen angels. He turned to Medusa, who was watching the angel hungrily, and ordered, “Take him to the prisons and give him a nice welcome.” For some reason, the angel was smiling, but that wouldn’t be for long as he let go of his neck and he fell to the floor, gasping, and the guards dragged him away.

            Little did they see a blue-white light consume the blond’s eyes, a sign of an angel leaving its vessel, and an unconscious Jason slump in their grips.   

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your thoughts and leave a kudos!


	16. 'Tis the Wind and Nothing More

_“Demons run_

_When a good man goes to war._

_Night will fall and drown in sun_

_When a good man goes to war._

_Friendship dies and true love lies_

_When a good man goes to war._

_Night will fall and the dark will rise_

_When a good man goes to war._

_Demons run but count the cost_

_The battle’s won but the child is lost_

_When a good man goes to war.”_

_-A Good Man Goes to War (Doctor Who)_

\----Ω----

 

The Metatron wasn't a big fan of stress, and considering the fact that he was the Scribe of God and a single error in his writing could have the entirety of the human race worship watermelons for the rest of their lives, his life wasn't easy. God had been silent for a while, however, and that's how the Metatron knew that shit was either going down or hitting the fan; He always became very distant when important moments in history took place, for He needed to take extra care that He didn't convey the outcome through the scriptures accidentally and cause humanity to try and change the course of history. God had His seraphim to sing beautiful hymns and praises for the rest of eternity to ease stress and tension, and the Metatron had his lyre to do the same.

It was no secret in Heaven that the Metatron was the basis for Ancient Greek and Roman god, Apollo, and the Metatron's lyre had managed to come along for the ride as well. He sighed and plucked a few more chords, the music elegant and otherworldly as the instrument made music that was impossible for humans to hear or even comprehend; they were too simple for that, and this lyre would either a) sound like a really loud and piercing whistle, like the ringing inside someone's head or b) cause their heads to explode. There was a reason why angels didn't descend to Earth very often, most being accidentally destructive when they underestimated power. Did you know that volcanoes react violently to a fire angel's presence? The angels didn't know that either until the terrible Pompeii fiasco, when a wayward fire angel, who had strictly gone against an Archangel's orders, went to visit the humans. The Metatron was pretty sure her name had been Rachel, and that she'd been formally…dismissed from the heavenly host later on. The Chicago Fire? Kate O'Leary's cow had actually been a blundering angel of nature who was investigating demonic activity, and accidentally knocked over the lamp that would start the most devastating fire in the city's history.

The Metatron creased his brow as he strummed the lyre absently, knowing that his mind shouldn't be straying to such dark places in the midst of a war. The old, Roman-style pavilion he was currently relaxing in was one of his favorite haunts, long since abandoned and therefore never disturbed. Thick ropes of ivy crawled and slithered along the crackled marble columns and long chutes of grass sprung from the cracks in the matching floor. The roof was rounded and crumbling, unstable to say the least, and there were a few tiny chips missing, which allowed small beams of sunlight to streak through and hit the floor. It had an earthy scent that was very soothing to the Metatron, and plenty of his books and instruments he'd brought on previous visits were stacked neatly on the side. It was away from the hustle and bustle of Machen's biggest city, and was technically a part of Archangel Michael's palace, though the Metatron didn't want to dwell on the Archangel and his disappearance.

That desire, however, would remain unfulfilled for the next few days, weeks, maybe, when the beating of wings could be heard. That wasn't possible. Nobody but the Metatron and maybe the guards and groundskeepers of Archangel Michael's palace knew of this place, and from the sound of the wings, they belonged to a messenger. There was, however, one person that the Metatron had told the location of the pavilion in case of emergencies, and he knew what this angel's arrival meant. A golden-eyed girl with curly hair and mocha skin touched down so quickly that the impact nearly shattered the marble underfoot, though she didn't seem fazed in the least.

“A message from Malakai!” she cried, panting from the exertion; the pavilion was a ways from the city, where the head Cherubim was stationed, and the Metatron's face darkened as he made a motion for the messenger, who he was pretty sure was Hazel, to go on. “I asked him what this meant, but he said you'd understand,” a pause, “Giel.” Hazel was only partway through the name when the Metatron launched into the sky and shot towards the city, his golden plumage reflecting the rays of sunlight like miniature suns. He heard the labored breaths of the messenger not far behind, and thought in the back of his mind how unfair it was to make her go all the way to the pavilion just to come back again; she must've been exhausted. Despite this, she kept a pretty decent pace, considering the abnormally small wings she had, at least small for a messenger. The gap between them grew farther and farther apart, however, because the Metatron's wings were larger and he was more rested than Hazel was, and he completely lost her somewhere at the halfway point. He'd have to make sure she arrived safely, but now the matters were too important to stop and wait for her to catch up.

Unsurprisingly, there was a large group of angels gathered in the central courtyard, all clustered to try and see what was at the center. Some were circling overhead, but they immediately parted when they saw the Metatron preparing to touch down. Malakai was easily noticeable by his incredible height and, of course, his six wings, man's body, lion's head, and calf legs. The Cherubim waved him over, concern written all over his feline face as he regarded the figure on the ground, who was being tended to by angels of healing. The Metatron had a flashback to when Perseus had arrived back in Heaven, for this was the same courtyard and the same city as the infamous black-winged messenger angel had landed, but at least this time he had a vague idea of what was in store.

As soon as he landed, his wings flared out, up and over his head as his irritation spiked. Giel was breathing heavily, and the Metatron realized that he'd flown here; actually flown. One look at the primaries on his left wing showed that he'd in no way healed completely yet, but it'd been just enough to let him fly, however strenuously, back to Heaven. The healing angels finished their analysis, declaring Giel healthy and uninjured except for a few scratches and bruises, and hurried off to the side as the Metatron stepped forwards, his eyes narrowing. The whole crowd went silent as fury pulsed off of the Metatron in waves, fury directed at Giel.

“Why have you ceased inhabiting Jason's body?” he demanded, his voice a low growl as he clenched his fists. Giel shrank into himself a little, pressing his wings down to the grown to show submission, and fiddled with the golden numeral II that hung from his neck.

“I apologize, s-sir. I-I'm incredibly s-sorry for abandoning my post, sir, but I th-thought you'd like to know the location of Lucifer's headquarters,” the angel squeaked in reply, his eyes wide and frightened. The Metatron's wings immediately folded behind his back and the amassed angels broke out into whispers, everyone radiating nervousness and anxiety. The Scribe of God saw an angel of nature who he knew was Hazel's mate jerk to attention at Giel’s words. The golden-winged angel extended a hand and helped Giel to his feet, apology spiking his scent, which the other angel graciously accepted.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked, his heart beginning to pond against his ribcage. They were about to learn of Lucifer’s whereabouts, and it was the key to the heavenly host’s winning of this unofficial war, this rising storm. They had the strength. They had the willpower. They just hadn’t had the location, and now it was being given to them, though the Metatron was clearly expecting a catch, judging by the nervousness in Giel’s eyes. One wouldn’t be nervous to be delivering news that would let their kingdom overcome the Fallen King’s.

“He’s located in Los Angeles, California, in a back alley on Purgatory Road. Password: Poughkeepsie. They’d undoubtedly changed it by now, though, and we’ll have to observe those who enter and what they do before we can officially get inside again. The location of the entrance may have changed as well,” Giel paused for a breath, very much interested in the ground. “Rachel and her fallen angels are in Los Angeles as well, and they’re keeping neutrality.”

“Good. If they have any sense they’ll be long gone by the time we get there,” the Metatron muttered thoughtfully, mostly to himself. He gestured for the angel to continue, but the angel had paused, his eyes frightened and his wings fluttering, which made the Metatron all the more anxious.

“I think we underestimated them,” Giel replied. Everyone fell silent, though whispers began to ripple through the crowd as the people in the inner circle relayed the news to those who were unable to hear the angel’s declaration. The Metatron studied him, unsure of whether he was lying or not, but Giel was now curled in on himself, trembling and rubbing his throat, where, the Metatron soon realized, there was a hand-shaped bruise forming. Someone had lifted an angel up off the ground with one hand. That wasn’t a big feat, considering that angels were relatively light compared to human standards, but Giel had been in a vessel. A one hundred eighty pound, all-muscle young man at that, who no one could pick up with a single hand. Fallen angels were that strong, maybe even some very buff demons had the ability to conquer the feat, but the haunted look in Giel’s eyes said otherwise. Had it been anything else, the angel could’ve easily brushed it off, but he was shivering even though it was always the perfect temperature in Heaven, his eyes darting around even though there was no danger to be seen, and that’s when he knew that Giel had encountered Lucifer.

“Tell me,” the Metatron said, his voice much softer than it had been before. It was more asking than ordering, and it eased the angel’s nervousness by the tiniest amount. He sat down next to Giel, who had his wings and arms wrapped around himself, and put a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder. He looked up then, determination sparking in his navy blue eyes.

“There were hundreds of fallen angels alone, thousands if you counted how many demons,” he snarled, though his anger wasn’t directed at the Metatron. “Their combined footsteps were like a roll of thunder as they approached, and I could almost smell the bloodlust, that’s how thick it was in the air.”

“Were there Watchers?” Malakai asked in a rough voice, his big, soft golden eyes shining with curiosity. His six wings were twitching restlessly, however his fiddling human hands made it look a bit more out of nervousness than anything else.

“All of the original third that fell from Heaven,” Giel replied, his voice growing stronger and stronger as he gained more confidence. “Leviathan or Medusa, Kronos, Abaddon, the whole nine yards. Porphyrion and Luke Castellan were there too.”

“Luke Castellan? Lilith’s angel experiment?” the Metatron asked, awed, and Giel nodded seriously, rising to his unsteady feet.

“He was at the back, not doing anything. Just smirking. I don’t think he cares about who suffers, only that someone suffers, even if it’s his own team. He feeds on it like it’s ambrosia,” Giel explained, shivering. “He looked like Frankenstein. Not only had Perseus taken his wings back, but he’d apparently cut the boy to pieces as well. Someone had stitched him back together, and my money’s on Kronos.”

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Malakai growled. He’d fought in the War in Heaven, on the front lines with the Archangels, and had faced off against Kronos to keep him at bay while Michael fought Lucifer and Raphael fought Leviathan. Uriel and Gabriel had been off stabbing and hacking at anything that attacked, but Malakai had been in charge of fighting off the hordes that would swarm the two other vulnerable Archangels. The way his furry brow creased and his powerful jaw set suggested that he was thinking of those terrible memories.

“Then…then there was,” a pause and a violent shudder passed through Giel, from feather to foot, “Lucifer. He was glowing. That kind of glow you get when you’re…” he swallowed, “mated. To an actual angel. Lucifer has an angel mate, and Perseus’ scent is all over him. It didn’t smell right, though. It had all the sweet smells of mate, yes, but there was something underneath, like reluctance. Perseus didn’t want to be Lucifer’s mate, and now that that’s the case, the Fallen King will be able to draw from Perseus’ power through their shared bond. He’s more powerful than ever before. Lucifer as of now has my vessel in captivity as well, and I apologize for the inconvenience.” The Metatron let out a ragged, slow breath, his brow furrowing as a mix of emotions and possible solutions whirled inside his head. He was going to reprimand Giel later for leaving his post, disobeying orders, and endangering a human life, but at the moment there were bigger problems at hand. Malakai was giving him a look that he knew all too well, and the Scribe of God nodded in reply, turning to the crowd.

“To all of those willing and able to fight, spread the word. At dusk we march to Los Angeles.” The assembled angels roared in reply, raising their fists.

“Ave Deus!”

 

\----Ω----

 

There'd been complete and total radio silence for the past few days, or was it weeks? Piper was frantic at first but had soon accepted her husband's sudden disappearance, assuming a forlorn look in her eyes and a blank expression. She moved, walked, and talked like Piper, but this wasn't Piper at heart. To herself, Reyna wonders whether this is what she would've acted like if Azrael hadn't gone missing and Jason had actually died. Unable to kill herself, would she have just curled up somewhere alone and don this same dead gaze and indifferent face? She didn't want to think about dead husbands, though, because that only made her thoughts wander to Alex, who'd taken a piece of her heart with him to Heaven. Perhaps, when this was all over, she could revoke her reincarnation like Dakota and Gwen did. Everyone was sullen as they sat within the meeting room, the encased shimmering white wings no more, replaced with an assortment of weapons that they could seize at any time if they were attacked.

They were all seated around the large table that used to be used to discuss new ways to separate the wings from angels, and now three of those wingless angels sat alongside them as allies. Oh how the times had changed. For a moment, Reyna wished that they were back to the old times. Sure, she'd been impoverished and the deed she was doing to gain money was wretched to say the least, but things were so much simpler. Back then, demons were only body parts to lure angels in, not powerful enemies that could destroy them. Lucifer was just an idea, someone locked away in Hell, and Luke was his old, snarky, loyal self. The Archangels were all where they should be and the fallen angels stayed fallen. The room in front for her flashed to the time before, before Jason and his mercy came to change things, perhaps for the better, considering she would've never met Alex had she kept angel hunting.

She, Leo, Annabeth, Dakota, Gwen, and Luke. It was them against the world. Them against Heaven, Hell, and Earth all at once, and for a few years it felt like they were winning. The huge angel wings were glowing as brightly as ever as they schemed over new traps, Leo having just created pressure plates that would trigger traps and make it much easier than remote-triggered ones. She smiled fondly, but pretty soon things were back to normal. Three fallen angels sat with them, one a worried spouse and one very much damaged for a while after losing their lover, who had been a Watcher until he'd crumbled to dust. Calypso seemed to have it good, but that was a stretch, considering she, too, had to see her husband age and age and become frailer and frailer. They were dysfunctional to say the least, but they were family too, and Reyna would fight Lilith over and over again if it meant that she could've met them.

Leo and Annabeth were still there, though, and Reyna smiled at Leo's serious ADHD and the way that the grey-eyed blonde had reclaimed her seat at the head of the table, once more the Golden Sword's leader. She'd been a great commander, and Reyna wondered why she hadn't joined the military; she was smart enough to rise into the ranks until she was a decorated veteran. Reyna had served her time in the army, but had seen only a little action. She was glad for this, though; had she been on the front lines, she feared that on the battlefield she'd only see Lilith and her demons, feared that she'd see her friends in the faces of her foes. She didn’t regret her servitude, though, because that’s how she’d met Alex. She'd given him her number after talking animatedly for a while, and one date turned into two, and two into five, and five into ten, and so on until Reyna married that soldier, who just so happened to be the cutest dork she'd ever met. She found that her eyes were watering at his memory and looked down, though nobody was really paying attention to her.

Annabeth was in the middle of speaking, her words sounding hopeful and defeated at the same time, like a person who knew it was a lost cause while still trying to cling to the notion. “So, if Perseus and Jason have both been captured, perhaps we could…”

Then it happened. A plume of smoke appeared in the center of the table and everyone snapped to attention. Even Leo, who was busy fiddling with a new project, jolted and watched in awe as the image of Frank and Hazel shimmered to life within it. Calypso, Nico, and Piper looked unsurprised but still impressed, and Reyna supposed that it was because they hadn't seen this celestial invention in many years.

“Iris messages are so much more advanced now,” the fallen death angel whispered to Leo's wife, and Reyna finally had a name for the cool and rather useful form of communication. It was like FaceTime…if FaceTime could connect two angels, three fallen angels, and four humans across celestial planes whilst having the devices hover in midair. Frank and Hazel looked excited, their wings fluttering behind them restlessly as they fidgeted, and Annabeth rose from her seat, glad to divert the conversation from possible rescue mission tactics.

“Hazel? Frank?” she asked, her eyes shining with hope and joy at seeing them. The mere presence of the angels lightened the mood, and Reyna found herself perking up; Hazel and Frank Iris messaging meant they had news, or a lead at least, and anything that could get them their Sparky (A nickname that Jason had received when he'd accidentally electrocuted himself in Piper's presence) and Feather Brain back where they belong.

“Heaven's armies are marching Los Angeles at dusk,” Frank announced to them rather… _frankly_ , Reyna inwardly punched herself for the pun, and her, along with everyone else's, mouth dropped open. The angels were tilting their heads adorably at the astonished reaction; their people skills were a little rusty and they tended to be a bit too blunt about things, so it was no surprise that they were a bit bewildered at the humans' shock.

“Why?!” Will managed to splutter, his hand immediately seizing Nico's, and the angel nuzzled the human's neck affectionately. It would be a bit get-a-room-ish if it were any other couple, but it was a thing of Nico's. He was affectionate in every way possible, courting and wooing Will in a cute way, like how a little bird would bring pretty rocks to a potential mate, and Hazel, Frank, Calypso, and Piper were all staring knowingly at the two, small smiles on their faces.

“Lucifer's headquarters are there. Go quickly. Both Jason and Percy are waiting for you,” a collective gasp, but Hazel soldiered through it, her words coming out in a rush as her eyes darted around. In the background Reyna could hear the distant but clear sound of marching, a perfectly in-sync _one-two one-two_ of an army, only hundreds of thousands of times larger than any kind of army on Earth, each step like a roll of thunder echoing. “We'd stay longer, but we have to get ready for war. Whatever you do, don't go in without angel backup, Lucifer if very powerful and he's-” An angel barged inside, her wings like fire and her eyes burning gold.

“Are you coming?” she demanded. She was clad in full Roman battle armor, only this armor was decorated with Enochian symbols and words, and her sword glinted wickedly in the light, three feet of impossibly sharp celestial metal. Frank and Hazel nodded in unison, and the Golden Swords got a glimpse of them snapping their armor and weapons into being before they cut through the Iris message, leaving them stunned. No sooner did they recover did they leap to their feet, rushing to their rooms to grab armor and weapons of their own.

They might just win this war.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's winding down! I'd give this sucker three or four more chapters to go, maybe five, plus two or three timestamps that I really wanted to do to ease the pain of this series' completion.


	17. Shadow that Lies Floating on the Floor

_“We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry.”_

_-John Webster_

\----Ω----

            Jason woke up with a ragged gasp, his body wracked with spasms. He had a migraine that made his head pulse with sharp spikes of agony in precise time with his heartbeat, and everything ached dully. It was dark around him, a void of nothingness that seemed to span for eternity, and for a moment Jason thought he was dead, but he remembered, if only vaguely, how he’d gotten there. Giel, the fucker, had tricked him into surrendering his body to his control, and Jason was now resentful at just about every angel but Percy. No, Percy was in the hands of Lucifer and didn’t need more hatred packed on top of that. He was probably being tortured somewhere nearby, and every single one of his thoughts was aimed at finding and liberating his friend, though he chided himself when he realized the fact that _he_ had to be liberated first.

            The room was bitterly cold, and there were no windows to be found. Jason was aware of the fact that there were absolutely no bonds holding him in place, and he felt his wrists and ankles to confirm this. Small blessings. He was well aware of the fact that Lucifer must be really confident in the workmanship of his cells to keep a prisoner untethered within one of them, and that he’d probably be in here until his friends came to rescue him. The chances of that were very, very slim indeed, for his friends had no idea where he was, and even if they did know, they’d be slaughtered by Lucifer and his armies before they could take a step over the threshold.

            He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but nearly blacked out from the bolt of pain that split his skull like lightning. He let out a broken whimper, glad that nobody was around to hear it, and waited for a few moments before trying again. It was agony, sure, but Jason had had to bear worse pains, and he was finally able to drag himself upright, though he was unable to support himself without leaning against the wall. Closing his eyes, though it really made no difference in the darkness, he concentrated on breathing and staying conscious; the last thing he needed was to go under and have the enemies catch him off guard when they arrived. He tried to recall when he was last in the heat of battle, or in a dangerous situation, and realized that he hadn’t encountered anything remotely life-threatening since he’d been sixteen. Lilith’s palace and what’d happened there immediately flashed before his eyes, and Jason shoved those thoughts out of the way just as quickly as they’d arrived. He didn’t need to have a flashback and/or panic attack in the middle of this situation.

            The blond had to admit that he’d missed this. Missed the rush of the adrenaline through his veins, the pounding of his heart against his ribs, the roar of blood in his ears; the longing that he’d felt for battle had faded with time and age, when the biggest battles in adulthood were paying bills and the ones in old age were trying to poop unassisted. He almost laughed at that, but his throat was too dry, and he knew that his migraine would beat the shit out of him if he did. He felt the battle training he’d gotten during his time at the Golden Swords’ kick in, and he began to analyze the room with the precision of a well-seasoned warrior. He felt the floor, and cursed when, instead of feeling the classic concrete or stone bricks of a cell, in its place was metal that was freezing to the touch, most likely titanium. As he felt around, he found ridges within the strong material, which was a bit odd; in the ultimate cell, there would be no weaknesses of any sort within it, however when he traced the ridges with his finger, he found that it created a sigil of some sort.

            There were many more sigils on the walls as well, he realized, and began to grow a bit nervous; Lucifer and his army thought that he was Giel, and therefore they’d keep him and treat him like an angelic prisoner. That could mean no food at all, because angels can starve and come back to life again and again, and Jason didn’t really want to die. Even though the angels would probably just resurrect him again, which he had mixed feelings about, Jason hadn’t technically died yet and wasn’t really ready to find out. He was a teenager again, and with it came the terror of becoming old, which was dulled a bit more now that in theory he was still eighty-seven. He didn’t want to become old, though; there was arthritis, pills, memory trouble, eating trouble, _pooping trouble,_ and now that Jason had a taste of what being young felt like again, he didn’t want to go back to the prune-eating, wrinkly man that he’d once been.

            His thoughts were raging, but it was like a horde of people walking calmly and collectedly towards an exit as a fire raged from within the building. He was flitting through possible solutions to his problem, the ideas coming in in a constant stream that would ebb and flow at Jason’s will, and he found that his best bet would be to feel around for any entrance that could possibly serve as an exit when the time came, though he was still pretty weak and his migraine would prevent him from doing anything for a while. He was so deep in thought that he nearly missed the soft brush of something over his hand, something like feathers. His eyes snapped open as his heart leapt.

            “Percy?” he rasped into the darkness, and the hoarseness of his voice surprised him more than anything else, really. There was a long pause, and Jason’s stomach dropped like a leaden ball as he imagined all of the terrible creatures that could have feathers on top of the ability to tear him to shreds and eat him alive.

            “No,” finally came the reply, a voice that was vaguely familiar to Jason. It was masculine and sounded tired, even more brittle than the human’s own voice, and the blue-eyed young man struggled to assign a face to it. When his mind tried and failed to figure out the voice’s owner, he let out a long sigh.

            “You sound like someone I know,” he sighed, sounding a bit stronger. The raggedness of his words had faded as he became more and more alert, though he was still wary of the other creature within the cell. He wasn’t even sure if it was an angel at all, and if he was an angel, would he be a friendly one?  “Have we met?”

            “It depends,” the voice replied vaguely, “I’ve met many, many people.” There was a heavy note to his voice, the sound of something so ancient that Jason couldn’t even begin to image the things that this…whatever-it-was…had experienced. It made him lean more towards angel, since he’d often heard Percy speaking in such a manner, but he couldn’t be sure. Could demons have feathers? And if so, Jason was almost positive that they could’ve talked like this guy, too. Fallen angels were also still on the table, though only the Watchers had feathers and he was pretty sure that all the Watchers were very pro-Lucifer.

            “Well then, let’s start with a clean slate, I’m Jason the human, and I’m technically eighty-seven years old, pushing eighty-eight on July first.” He tried to make his voice sound humorous to lighten up the situation, but it fell flat when there was no sign of this humor being reciprocated. In fact, there was no reply whatsoever. Had he made him mad? He really, really didn’t want to piss his cell-mate off; who knows how long they’d be in this cell together? If they were going to be crammed into such a small space, he wanted to stay on his good side.

            “I have met you, Jason the human,” the voice finally told him, and Jason was relieved to hear the slight amusement tinging his voice. He still searched for a face to match the voice, but he still came up with nothing, which frustrated him to no end. There was another long pause, but this one was as if the not-such-a-stranger was thinking about what he was going to say next. “I’m Michael the Archangel, and I’m the oldest thing next to God.” Jason was pretty sure his heart just stopped, and his brain short-circuited as he processed this information. He hadn’t been fucking joking when he said he’d met many, many people, which, by the way, was the biggest understatement of the year if you hadn’t guessed. He was the oldest being to be created by the big G himself, and Jason had only every talked to him via Iris-message. Now he was in the same room, breathing the same air as one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

            “M-m- _Michael?_ ” he stammered, still a bit disbelieving.

            “In the flesh,” he replied, and he sounded like a very tired celebrity that always got the ‘is it really you?’ question from people who he met at the grocery store. Michael technically was a celebrity, and Jason was keen to remember that; the angels he’d known, like Hazel and Percy, had _worked_ for Michael, so they weren’t very star-struck. Piper had always spoke of Michael wistfully and with a lot of respect in her voice, and only now did he realize just how important this guy was. Back to the subject of being captured and in the same cell as him, Jason didn’t know whether to celebrate or sob in despair; he’d found the Archangel of Archangels, which meant that his brothers were nearby, but this also meant that he wasn’t going to be getting out of this cell anytime soon. Michael was at least one hundred million times more powerful than he was, and if _he_ could be contained within these walls, there was no doubt that Jason would be.

             “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” the Archangel told him. “When they brought you in here you were unconscious. They didn’t seem too happy, grumbling that they’d been tricked.” Jason was relieved that the guards were aware that he was human and, indeed, capable of dying. The only question was if they really cared or not, and he doubted that they did (Which, of course, made him incredibly nervous).

            “Yeah, about that…” Jason trailed off, unsure about whether he should tell Michael about the corruption that’s going on in the kingdom that he usually runs. “I was a vessel for an angel named Giel.”

            “A vessel?” Michael sounds surprised. “Are you sure? That practice is beyond archaic. We haven’t taken vessels since humans were mere monkeys that walked on two legs. We watched through their eyes to see how Earth was doing and left soon after visiting.”

            “Well he kind of tricked me into becoming his vessel,” Jason whispered, and he immediately heard the sound of Michael jerking violently, his wings beating in his fury, though  for some reason he let out a yell of pain as he did so, and there was a small thump as the wings fell limply to the floor. There was a long pause where the only thing Jason could hear was Michael’s ragged breathing, but the Archangel regained his composure before Jason could ask anything.

            “ _What_?!” he practically bellowed, and the human went from slightly calm to so terrified that he wanted to disappear into the floor, even though the rage wasn’t directed at him. “That is forbidden! That is…barbaric!” It took a moment for him to recover, not used to experiencing an Archangel’s rage.

            “Well it happened, and he used me to scout out the headquarters without detection, and when I got caught he left, probably to go report back,” he paused, “If it makes you feel better, there’s probably help on the way.”

            “We have to get you out of here,” Michael told him seriously, and Jason wished he could see the Archangel’s facial expressions and movements. It would make it much easier to understand his emotions, which were hidden from Jason as if behind a wall.

            “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. Besides, you should be the one escaping, not me.”

            “But I can handle the…the torture here,” Michael rasped, and there was a distinct tremor in his voice that signaled his reminiscing of those said tortures. He felt bad for the angel, and found himself crawling over in the general direction of his voice. “You can’t handle it, though. You’re human. Mortal. Your wounds don’t heal. Medusa, that’s the...‘caretaker’, as she calls herself, will skin you alive. Your mind will be broken by the end of the first day, I assure you.” The Archangel yelped in surprise when Jason reached out and touched his wing, and after drawing up memories of taking care of Percy’s wings all those years ago, he began to groom him. He stayed away from the underside, for the messenger angel had once told him that was reserved for mates only, and he didn’t want to accidentally mate with an Archangel. He was married, dammit, and he was pretty sure that Michael wouldn’t be as approachable as he was now if that happened.

            He didn’t really seem to care, though, sighing in content as Jason picked out all the loose feathers. The blond had groomed Percy so much that he was able to find loose and useless primaries without having to be able to see them, and he massaged the tense and battered flesh in all the places that Percy had liked. They sat in silence for a while as Jason groomed the Archangel’s wings, and he found himself a bit disbelieving. Here he was, _preening_ one of the most powerful angels ever created, and he was being welcomed with open arms.

            “Thank you,” Michael breathed as Jason’s fingers found and rubbed the place where wing fused with flesh, a part that Percy said was the basis of all soreness in angels. “Your soul shines very brightly.” Jason paused and regarded place in the darkness where Michael should be with a look of astonishment, not that the Archangel would be able to see it. Or could he?

            “You can see my soul?” Jason asked, resuming the preening. Michael’s wings were gigantic, and he hadn’t even ventured towards the bottom of the first one yet.

            “Yes. I can see all souls. Even the corrupted ones,” a sigh, “It’s more of a burden than a blessing, but in this case it helped deem you trustworthy.”

            “Well then, I’m glad I’m A-OK in your book,” Jason replied, and this time Michael chuckled softly, though it turned into a wheezing cough that made Jason quite nervous.

            That’s when he felt it.

            “Oh my god,” the human whispered as the Archangel let out a hiss of pain. “Sorry, sorry. Just let me see it.” He felt around, eliciting cries of pain from Michael, and he hushed encouragements in a way that always used to calm Percy down when he was thrown into a frenzy. There was a tear in the Archangel’s wing. A literal _tear._ Like someone had taken it and ripped it nearly in half, one side barely clinging to the other. “What happened?”

            “Medusa happened,” Michael whispered, sounding even more exhausted than before. “It’s on my other wing, too. Please stop. It hurts.”

            “Okay, okay,” Jason soothed, shuffling backwards. “How come you haven’t healed?”

            “Stygian Iron,” the Archangel replied, “It acts like how a regular weapon would work on a human. It damages. Permanently.”

            “How will you be able to get out?”

            There was a long, long pause that made Jason’s chest tighten.         

            “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we have to focus on getting _you_ out.” The comment surprised the human, and he was a bit doubtful, as well as unafraid to tell Michael of his qualms and misgivings.

            “No, you have to get out first. You need to get help for your wings,” Jason insisted, packing as much seriousness into his voice as possible. The Archangel needed to know just how severe this situation was. “Perseus, Percy, as you know, lost his ability to fly because of me. He was devastated, and nearly went into the eternal Healing Slumber because of it. I’m not going to just sit back and allow another angel’s life to be wrecked. I used to do so much evil, Michael, so much that I still think I deserve a ticket downstairs because of it, and I need to make sure that you’ll be able to fly again.”

            “It’s already too late for that,” the Archangel hissed, his voice bitter and harsh as he thought of how he would never be able to take flight again. “But it’s not too late for you. Once Medusa comes, though, you’ll be done for. You’ll be just as damaged as I am, only worse. She’ll break your mind, fit a collar around your neck and drag you around on a leash. She’ll manipulate you so badly that no matter how many times she kicks you and beats you, you’ll snuggle up next to her and follow her around like some lovesick dog.” Jason shook violently, and he couldn’t stop the images from Lilith’s palace from floating into his vision. The constant fear of Asmodeus, the leash, _the bedroom._ Jason didn’t want to think of what happened in that bedroom that he had never told anyone, even his friends when they tried to pry. But having to go through all that again and being so broken that he _liked_ it? _Craved_ it? He stifled a sob at the thought and wiped away the tears that had silently been making their way down his face.

            “But how am I going to get out of here?” he asked, his voice still shaking. “You can’t get out of here, and you’re a fucking _Archangel_. How am I, a mortal human, going to get out?”

            When Michael spoke again, he sounded mischievous and a bit smug, “I can’t use my powers to get out, that’s what the sigils are for, but I can use my powers to get _other_ people out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER OF BLEEDING FEATHERS OMG THIS IS SO EXCITING AND HEARTBREAKING BUT DONT WORRY I HAVE A BUNCH OF TIMESTAMPS


	18. Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore"

_“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and wonder why you’re still in Hell.”_

_-Anonymous_

\----Ω----

            Hazel was trembling, adjusting her helmet for the umpteenth time. She’d never experienced battle before; that was for the angels of death who collected the souls of the fallen soldiers, not for a meek messenger angel such as herself. The thought of her comrades chopped and hacked to the ground, tossed like ragdolls and shredded like paper at the hands of demons and fallen angels, sent chills racing up and down her spine like icy spiders. Frank was with her, too, and he flew directly in front of her, casting concerned glances back every now and then. She hadn’t been alive when the two Wars in Heaven had raged on divine soil, and was very glad for it; most of the soldiers here were older than she was, and their eyes were wide, like spooked horses’. They’d seen the power of Lucifer’s wrath, the dead eyes of their kin, the sound of feathers tearing from flesh and bones snapping like toothpicks, and there was no doubt that they were reliving it in this moment. They’d seen brother fight against brother, sister against sister, and Hazel remembered some of the few words that her father had said to her about the Wars:

 

            _His gaze was distant, and Hazel put her tiny little hands on his knee to try and comfort him, if only slightly. Even though she was a mere fledgling, her mind was functioning ten times better than the average human adult’s would, and her vocabulary was wider than even the greatest philosopher’s. “You two should’ve seen it,” Hades whispered, his voice sounding awed and bitter at the same time. Nico, who was several hundred years older than his sister, sat nearby, pretending not to be listening but in reality fascinated by the whole subject, as the glint in his dark brown eyes suggested. He’d presented as a death angel, like their father, while Hazel had presented as a messenger angel, like her mother, and even though Nico and Marie were a bit distant, they still were on good terms. As of that moment, their mother was out delivering messages for her boss, an angel of nature named Zeus, who just so happened to be one of Hazel’s many relatives._

_Hades’s eyes raked over the rolling hills of her childhood home in the Third Heaven, watching the souls who’d achieved paradise flit this way and that. “Blood was running like rivers on the street, and even today there are bloody hand smears on some of the older buildings in Machon from those who’d been wounded in battle. The ground was strewn with the bodies of the dead and dying, and the healing angels couldn’t get to them fast enough. Their lifeless eyes. They stare at me at night, Hazel, and some of the skeletons had been picked clean, the marrow shining in the night. Some didn’t even have bones to bury. The brothers I had come to know were no longer brothers, who’d long since withered and corrupted into terrible beasts, and my sisters were just as dead as my brothers were to me. Leviathan used to sell me statues and flowers, and I had to watch Raphael’s spear go through her skull. Even my father had turned to follow Lucifer, and I saw him_ smiling _as he ripped a poor fire angel to shreds. The same fire angel who’d been so young. So scared. And I’d told him not to worry, Hazel, I told him not to worry!”_

_Now Nico was up and trying to soothe their father, along with Hazel, who was wrapping her wings around his legs to comfort him. Hades continued, now reduced to rambling, “The second War was worse! Nobody, and I mean_ nobody _was safe. Demons were now thrown into the mix, and now there were these_ creatures _hiding in the shadows, dragging fledglings from their cribs and leaving their bones picked clean in the alleys. Do you know how horrible it was to have to reap their souls? I wasn’t in the heat of battle like the last War, but this was so much worse…” his voice became strangled and he had to pause to take a breath before continuing._

_“I remember a little redheaded girl. She had forest green wings that matched her eyes, and freckles that were spattered over her nose…so many freckles. She was wearing a white dress with a ribbon around her waist, and was playing hopscotch outside of one of the safe houses. The demons knew where the houses were. They pulled out her pigtails first, ripping the skin from her skull. Then they severed her wings next, with Stygian Iron daggers that were covered in the blood of others that had fallen at their hands. She was screaming and screaming and screaming for her mommy and daddy. For someone to come save her. Her dress was so red, so very red, and she bled out slowly. She was dead before they ate her, starting with her tiny little heart and then moving outwards. Sometimes I can still hear her crying out.” Their father’s voice faltered and faded as he finally lapsed into a silence that was plagued with regret and sadness._

_It was unlike Hades to become emotional, but at that moment tears were streaking down his face, which he tried to hide with his hands. Hazel had never seen her father cry after that, and her father never again spoken of the Wars._

Hazel was jolted from her reveries when the centurions of her cohort shouted that they were entering Earth’s atmosphere from the front of the pack. The triangle formation of warrior angels dipped as they plunged into a nearly ninety degree dive, and Hazel focused on the wind bellowing in her ears and streaking through her feathers as she pinned her wings against her body. Frank’s very sculpted ass was right in front of her to observe as well, but he was a bit fuzzy around the edges as they severed the sound barrier in half. Her eyes were shielded by the visor on her golden helmet, which was shaped like that of a Roman gladiator’s and had wings engraved into the sides. It’d been her mother’s during the War, and it’d taken a whole lot of restoring for it to be in the state it was now. Her blood was singing, her angelic instincts taking control within her mind. She was born to be a warrior, even the most peaceful of nature angels were, and the dormant impulses reared their mighty heads in their awakening, letting out piercing roars that rattled in Hazel’s skull.

            Her sword hung from its scabbard and her armor seemed to weigh heavily on more than just her body. She was going to go into battle. She was going to run demons and fallen angels through with her sword, and the first blood she’d ever spilled would stain her mind. It was worse for the senior officers, she supposed, for they’d known these fallen angels. They’d been kin. Family. They’d faced off against them before and would now have to do so again, and the survivors of the Wars would be slaughtered in the next one. It wasn’t considered a War in Heaven, considering it wasn’t on heavenly soil, but it was just as big, Hazel realized. She would pass down the horrors of this War to her fledglings like her father had done for her, and she would cry just like he’d done. Unless Hazel became the girl in the white dress…

            She didn’t want to think about it.

            When the cohort broke out of their dive, Hazel could see the gleaming lights of the city sprawled before her. She’d been to Earth only a handful of times, and it never ceased to amaze her. Humans weren’t as genius as angels, but their minds were much more advanced than anything Hazel had ever seen, which was confirmed as the triangle formation brushed past a skyscraper and maneuvered around a great spire that Frank had later told her transmitted radio waves. The Hollywood sign stood proud and tall on its side of the hill, its throne, and proclaimed to everyone that this was where fame and celebrities were born, and she stored the image in the back of her mind for later reference. The swelling urban buildings reached out on all sides like tentacles, trying to drag more and more land into their masses, and streets wove through them as if they were serpents, their yellow-striped bodies standing out against the collage of grey and black and white. The light coming from the city fought back against the dreary navy of the night sky, their windows easily mistaken for the stars that twinkled distantly in the night. She dearly wished that they would land somewhere amongst the bustling city streets, where there were mortals as witnesses, because that would mean that Lucifer’s armies wouldn’t attack; it would be too risky for them to have their cover blown when their numbers were still climbing.

            That wasn’t the case as the centurions led the cohort past the impressive skyscrapers and flashing lights, to where the buildings became smaller and smaller until they dwindled. The sidewalks were still teeming with life, however, and they had to keep a decent altitude as to assure they wouldn’t be seen. They didn’t want their photographs spreading about on the internet now, would they? The cohort touched down into the remote alley that the Metatron, who was leading the first cohort, had assigned them. It was dirty to say the least, with toppled garbage cans that smelled rancid and mysterious liquid polling on the ground that the angels’ sandal-clad feet wanted to stay well away from. Rats rummaged through the garbage, unafraid of the angelic presence that was not a foot away, and for a moment Hazel wished she was a rat. No worries in the world. Completely oblivious to the problems that plagued beings with higher intelligence. All you had to do was eat, sleep, and breed and that was pretty much it, aside from wreaking havoc in mortal homes, which Hazel would find quite entertaining. The crumbling brick walls that surrounded the cohort on either side were too close together for her to spread her wings, not to mention that the rest of her cohort wouldn’t appreciate the squashing, and she felt a bit claustrophobic.

            She wished she’d been a part of the cavalry unit, which wasn’t deployed and would’ve served as a sixth cohort; the pegasi that they used were too obvious and noticeable in the crowded city. Now don’t go thinking that these were dorky, happy little creatures that bounced around on the clouds and farted rainbows wherever they went. No, these pegasi were warriors, just like the angels themselves. Their bigger wingspans gave them faster speed, and they were almost as intelligent as their riders, though their free will and pride made them a bit difficult to handle. These pegasi were fierce and battle hungry 24/7, and most had lived long enough to see and participate in the Wars in Heaven. They bore scars on their gleaming hides, and their eyes glittered with knowing.

            Hades and Marie had once taken their children to one of the public training sessions of the pegasi, for fun they insisted, but it was really just to scare Hazel out of wanting one. And it worked. Four pegasi were being demonstrators at this particular session; Tempest, Blackjack, Scipio, and Arion. They were all beasts, needless to say; savage killing machines whose eyes went wild with bloodlust as opponent after opponent was unleashed into the arena. The angels of nature who handled them conjured up savage beasts like bears and lions, and they’d slaughtered them all. Blackjack had liked to down his prey with a well-aimed kick and then crush their skulls beneath his hooves, which had been soaked up to the hock in blood by the time the session was over, though the dark ebony of his coat had disguised it very well. Arion was as fast as the wind, and he loved to tire them out until they collapsed, toying with them by charging and then dancing out of reach before they could deliver a blow. Then he’d tear them to shreds, alive, mind you, with teeth that were too sharp to belong to a regular horse. Tempest was a bit more merciful and wise, merely snapping their necks with little to no effort exerted by either party. It was quick, swift, and ruthless, and he tag-teamed with Scipio a lot, who was less enthusiastic about killing than the others and preferred to munch on the corpses afterwards, like some sort of sick vulture. Hazel had been crying when they’d left the arena and had never asked for a pegasus again. In the back of her mind, though, there was a little part of her that would kill just to get a single ride from one, especially Arion, whose rippling buckskin coat awed her and whose lightning fast movements made her heart twist. She was jolted out of her reveries by the loud voice that bellowed for everyone’s attention.

            “That alley over there,” a centurion, who just so happened to be Ares, one of the few angels of power who existed, announced, pointing to a dark crevasse in between the buildings across from them, “Is where the new entrance to Lucifer’s headquarters is.” This caused a ripple of murmuring amongst the soldiers, who were trembling so hard that their armor was rattling, though the red-winged centurion silenced them soon after. “Our very talented Cherubim have located the location and the password beforehand, but that won’t matter; right before the first cohort storms in, they’ll jam the teleportation system to keep it from closing and switching places and passwords once more, and that’s how we’ll get in.”

            Hazel’s cohort was the fifth wave, being the fifth cohort, and they had to wait for the fourth’s signal before they attacked, as Ares had told them before they’d taken off. She wished that the centurions would be a bit more motivational, but they were too busy attempting to try and soothe their panicked soldiers, without much success. Frank wrapped his big, strong arms around Hazel as she trembled like a leaf, and even though she could hear his heart roaring in his chest it was a comfort to know that he was there for her. She leaned against him and clung to the steady rock, the anchor of her life to keep from breaking down. Her heart was fluttering with pre-battle jitters, and her stomach twisted and rolled with the anxiety, making her nauseous. Many of the soldiers had already thrown up, and she felt like she might follow them. But no, she had to stay strong. For Frank. For Heaven. So, with shaking hands, she and Frank hunkered down to wait.

 

\----Ω----

 

            Jason crept through the hallways, which were eerily silent, his shoes not making a sound as they gingerly touched the floor with every step. He couldn’t deny that his surroundings were beautiful, but in the dark they were beyond creepy. For some reason, despite the fact that there were no lights to be seen, Jason could still pick out every single detail of the place. It was like the faint glow of moonlight washed over everything and made them visible, though there was no moon to speak of. Large columns stretched overhead, their polished marble surfaces like the deadly beckoning of a white rose. Underneath the pretty flower, there were only thorns. The oriental carpet muffled his steps somewhat, but he knew that his enemies had far better hearing than he, and he had to take extra precautions to keep silent. Occasionally an announcement would blare from hidden speakers:

            “ _Heaven’s armies have been detected. Please report to battle stations_ ,” said the monotone female voice.

His heart was stuttering in his chest, and the fear of being confronted, weaponless, by demons or fallen angels filled his thoughts, but he didn’t allow that to cloud his senses as a litany of _FindPercyFindPercyFindPercy_ echoed through his mind. Even though Michael had told him to run, get out of the place as fast as he possibly could before they found him, all of these passages were alien to him, and Jason might as well continue his mission if he had no idea where the exit was. Then again, he had no idea where Percy was, either.

            “ _Heaven’s armies have been detected. Please report to battle stations._ ”

            He prowled through the halls, his muscles tense and his hands trembling, and kept his eyes off of the gruesome, twisted versions of famous paintings. The eyes of the terrible demon that was whispering into Mona Lisa’s ear seemed to follow him as he passed, and the stars in Van Gough’s _Starry Night_ were actually angels falling from the sky, encased in a fiery inferno as their mouths opened in silent screams. It made the chills that were dancing up and down Jason’s spine grow more potent, and Jason shivered and diverted his gaze, but not before seeing the decorative display case with angelic weapons in it that was situated on the far wall. He hustled over as fast as he could without making any sound, and was relieved when the top of the case could be slid off for access to the weapons. His eyes immediately went to the huge, double-edged blade that had roses made of gold wrapping around the black hilt, but as soon as he picked it up he staggered under the weight, nearly having a heart attack when he almost dropped it. No, this wouldn’t do, and with much effort he put it back into its place. The rest of the weapons were ancient-looking, so fragile and brittle that they would almost certainly snap in half if Jason tried to stab his opponent.

            “ _Heaven’s armies have been detected. Please report to your battle stations._ ”

            Then his gaze trailed to the only other thing, besides the sword, that was shiny, which just so happened to be a Roman coin of some sort. That was odd, because the theme of the display case seemed to be weapons, and there was no label on it whatsoever that indicated how this coin could be used as, well, a weapon. On one side there was an axe that had the letters ‘IVLIVS’ under it, and Jason was glad that his Latin was up to par when he translated it to mean ‘Julius’. When he turned it over there was a picture of Julius Caesar engraved onto it, which only managed to confuse him even more. Jason would have to use this as a keepsake, he supposed; a lucky but mysterious coin that he’d have to look into more when this entire situation ended _. If_ it ended. He flipped it on instinct, not really paying attention to the motion, but what fell back into his hands wasn’t a coin at all.

            Jason suppressed a gasp when his fingers closed over the hilt of a huge Roman gladius, and he was pretty sure that his heart was going to beat right out of his ribcage. The blade balanced perfectly in his hands, and it pulsed with angelic power that trickled from the blade and into Jason’s blood, which sang with adrenaline. The blond let out a stuttering breath and decided not to ask any questions until he was in the clear, whenever that may be. Was it just him or were the shadows on the wall creeping closer? He didn’t stay long enough to find out, however that’s when he ran into something very solid, and his joyous blood immediately ran cold as he looked upon a face of angelic beauty that was so severe he almost wanted to avert his eyes out of respect. The angel spread his tattered white wings, and Jason felt like he was going to faint as the fallen Archangel’s icy blue eyes trained on him, a cat who’d caught sight of a very delectable looking mouse. His lips quirked into a chilling smile.

            “Hello, Jason, how nice to meet you,” said Lucifer, his voice a serpent’s whisper.

            “ _Heaven’s armies have been detected. Please report to your battle stations_ ,” said the alarm.

            Then everything went black.

 

\----Ω----

 

            “ _Scout the area_ ,” the Metatron had told them before they entered Lucifer’s palace. Alone. “ _Find the Archangels. They’ll be able to help…if they’re still sane, that is_.” They had been Iris messaged from the scribe of God before Heaven’s armies had even taken off, so the humans would have long since infiltrated the headquarters before the armies were on high alert. Will clung to Nico as they navigated their selected hallway alone except for one another; the humans and fallen angels couldn’t risk being clumped into one big group, where they could easily be rounded up and captured, or worse, killed, so instead they split up, and everyone who had a lover was partnered up. Annabeth had refused to join a team of three after Piper and Reyna had partnered up, and Will was constantly fretting over her well-being; even though she was an excellent warrior, she didn’t have a friend to have her back and warn her of incoming danger. Everyone had taken a different hallway in hoped of finding their two missing friends or perhaps the Archangels, hopefully both, and the silence was eerie.

            Heaven had supplied them with blades made of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold, which were the counterpart of Stygian Iron. Though its properties were hallowed rather than demonic, it still had the same effect; it could wound immortals permanently and could kill them. It was powerful enough to kill Archangels as well, though that was highly unlikely since they’ll fry any opponent to crisps before they could even get a slash in. These ones were enchanted, though, so that demons couldn’t sense their presence like they could with countless other things, and Will had a white-knuckled grip on the hilt. Nico seemed very at home with the Celestial Bronze weapon, having used it when he was up in Heaven, and even though it made him a bit homesick he was proud to be back in the midst of battle, as he’d told Will before they’d entered the headquarters.

            Every once in a while they’d have to duck behind a pillar or statue in order to avoid a patrolling guard, and thankfully Nico’s fallen angel scent masked Will’s human one. That didn’t keep Will’s blood from roaring in his ears every time a demon or fallen angel walked past their hiding spot. Never once did they stop or pause to sniff the air, which was a blessing, but what if they already knew that the humans were there? What if they were just waiting to ambush them? What if there were no hiding spots the next time an enemy came down the hall? Nico placed a reassuring hand on Will’s forearm, and even though he had a calm composure, Will could see the concern and anxiety glittering in the fallen death angel’s eyes, which clearly told him not to fret so much. They continued on, avoiding hallways whose hiding places were too sparse or spaced out, and eventually the human calmed down. Nico was the steady rock next to him, and whenever Will was feeling the anxiety begin to cloud his mind Nico gave a very reassuring squeeze that settled his nerves once again.

            They were walking for a while, Will knew, but he thought they’d have more time when suddenly all the lights shut off. It nearly gave him a heart attack and he clung to Nico, who gripped his hand tightly, drawing his blade from his belt.

            “ _Heaven’s armies have been detected, please report to battle stations_ ,” announced a female voice. Nico tackled Will off to the side and dragged him behind a pillar as the sound of hundreds of feet hurtled towards them. A horde of demons and fallen angels alike swept past, and Will clung to Nico’s shirt and allowed a small whimper to fall from his lips as they thundered past. He was so scared, so very, very scared, and even Nico’s calming presence couldn’t keep his stomach from twisting and rolling. He forced himself not to hyperventilate as the last of the soldiers whisked past, and from that moment on the two of them kept to the sides behind the pillars. Even though the rug would provide cushioned footsteps, every so often a demon would hurtle from around the corner to join the masses, and the halting flow of stragglers never seemed to end. Even though they could take on a single demon, it would cause a commotion and draw others in as well.

            They walked in silence for a while, and even though Will could see just fine, he let Nico’s heightened fallen angel senses take the lead. He was terrified out of his wits, and sometimes forgot to breathe when a soldier ran past them, though they were too wrapped up in the repeating call to battle that the monotone voice announced at intervals. He counted the seconds between each announcement to calm himself down a bit, and found that they were staggered a bit, with no real pattern. Nico led them along, his face hard set and determined as he kept a tight grip on both Will’s hand and his Celestial Bronze knife. The silence caused Will’s ears to ring loudly, like an alarm blaring for him to go back, but he had to stay strong. Nico seemed to be relying just as heavily on him as he was on Nico, which was a bit surprising since Nico was basically Will’s crutch at the moment, and he didn’t want to let his boyfriend down by chickening out at the last moment.

            The silence had become at least mildly pleasant by now, and the voice blared over and over again. Suddenly Nico stopped, and at first Will thought it was because another demon was around, but that would be odd since the stream of idlers had ceased long ago. Instead, however, Nico told him in a grave voice, “I can sense Lucifer’s power.” Will’s heart was thrown into a frenzy, beating so fast Will thought it would burst. He tasted bile in his mouth and gripped Nico’s hand so tightly that the fallen angel actually winced a little. Was Lucifer near them? Was he coming closer? What were they going to do?! He tried to voice these questions to his boyfriend, who immediately cut him off, saying, “Let’s try and go towards it and see what we find.” Will’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his eyes grew wide. Was he joking? The look on his face suggested otherwise, and that only made Will’s thoughts race faster than planes on a runway.

            “Are you kidding me? !” Will hissed, his voice a loud whisper. There was no one around, at least that’s what they supposed, and Nico would be able to sense another presence coming so they could dive behind one of the pillars. “We’re not the dumb white people in horror movies who go _towards_ the danger. It’s suicide! Just a note that this is _Lucifer_ we’re talking about. The Fallen King, the Serpent, the very, very, very bad guy that is perfectly capable of destroying us and dispersing our microscopic particles around the universe!”

            “Yes, I know,” Nico replied through grit teeth. “But I’m picking up Percy and Jason’s scent, too, and that can only mean one thing…” He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like a fog. Will didn’t want to think of all the tortures that faced their feathered friend, and he could only imagine what they were doing to Jason because he was human and bled more. They lapsed into an anxious silence that had the hairs on the backs of their necks standing on end, and Will grudgingly allowed Nico to lead him along. Will really didn’t want this to be on his tombstone:

 

_William Solace_

_Died June 14, 2016_

_William will be in our hearts always,_

_but he was a stupid-ass bitch for confronting Lucifer_

_We miss you, XOXO_

            He was now officially trembling, and he wanted to be really angry at Nico for dragging him into this, but couldn’t find the heart to do so. Besides, Jason and Percy were there, and maybe their friends would show up soon after they arrived to aid them. Lucifer’s army would be too busy with the armies of Heaven to overcome them, and if they unleashed the Archangels that would seal the deal. They only hoped that one of their friends had found the captured legends and freed them from wherever they were being kept. After those thoughts had reeled through his head, an eerie sort of calm settled over the human’s shoulders, something that could only be described as battle-calm. The acceptance and the willingness to fight for what you desired and what the world needed. Nico was sneaking concerned glanced at his boyfriend, obviously worried about the serene expression on the human’s face, and he squeezed Nico’s hand to give him a bit of confidence. They were in this together, in this until the end. It was a pity that they’d probably die fighting Lucifer, probably go down together before they really had time to live; during the time after their reunion, everything had been focused on the war. Nico would be reborn as another angel, and Will would ascend back to Heaven once more. He knew he’d probably be rewarded with new life, but realized with astonishment that he wouldn’t accept it. No, he’d stay in paradise for good this time, and perhaps Nico will have a job in Heaven where he could visit often. The thought made Will’s heart twist.

            He was jolted out of his daydreams when Nico inhaled sharply. In front of them were two gigantic golden doors, inlaid with obsidian shards that formed two dragons, one on each door. Their eyes were rubies that glittered and seemed to watch the pair’s every move, and their wings were spread as if to take flight. That wasn’t the chilling part about it, though, it was the obsidian letters that were above them:

 

**_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here_ **

            It was the same inscription on the gates of Hell, and even though the battle-calm was washing over Will in a never-ending flow, he still felt a twinge of anxiety low in his gut. He was determined to remain level-headed, though, and with Nico beside him he felt like there was nothing that they couldn’t do.

            “Nico,” Will whispered, letting go of his lover’s hands to gingerly trace his jaw. The fallen angel, however, refused to meet his eyes, and worried on his bottom lip as he stared at the floor. So he was feeling the same thing as well, the feeling of finality, the leap as the finale blazed and ebbed as the curtains finally closed; the bright light that shined before the darkness enveloped them. “I love you.”

            “I love you, too,” Nico rasped and wiped furiously at his eyes. Will enveloped him in an embrace where the fallen angel clung to him and buried his face into his shoulder. “I don’t want to go.”

            “Me neither,” Will whispered in his ear, squeezing him tightly. He took in Nico’s unique smell, his face, and with a heavy heart let go just as the fallen angel did the same. “But we’ll go down in history as heroes.”

            “I’m no hero,” Nico scoffed crossing his arms tightly over his chest, looking anywhere but at his lover. “I’m a misfit and a loser.”

            “Well in that case we’re a couple misfits who just so happened to do some good for once,” Will replied, smiling a genuine smile that seemed to ward away all the tension and cause it to dissipate. Nico looked up, his big brown eyes sad but hopeful at the same time, and he managed a cheeky grin as well.

            “Yeah…I…I like that,” he told him softly, entwining their fingers once more, and Will rubbed his thumb over Nico’s knuckles in a tender and affectionate gesture that they used to do when they were dating. During that time, they had no worry in the world; Will didn’t know that Nico was a fallen angel and Nico didn’t know that Will was a fallen angel hunter, and that was the one time they were carefree. Now they were off to face an enemy who they were unsure they could defeat, but that didn’t matter anymore.

            Will kissed Nico, slow and chaste but no less lovingly, and gave his lover a last comforting squeeze before announcing, “Then come, fellow misfit, and let’s meet our destiny.” They threw open the doors together and they swung open without a sound, revealing a huge throne. Lucifer was waiting for them, it was obvious in his smug smile and gleaming blue eyes, but then again, so were Percy and Jason. Only…not. Their eyes were dead, and they stared straight ahead, unseeing and unfeeling. Their faces were blank masks.

            “Honeybun, can you do something for me?” the fallen Archangel crooned, and Will saw Nico recoiling as Percy let out a low, catlike purr to show that he was listening. “Kill them.” Will gasped and his muscles seized up as Percy’s wings flared up and out, snarling aggressively, though he was keen to note the fact that the primary feathers had been clipped. Nico tensed up beside him, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead “You too, Jason.” Jason flipped an unfamiliar-looking coin and it morphed into a spear, which he leveled at him and Nico, an indifferent and ruthless expression on his face. The last thing Will saw was the Devil’s wicked, cold grin and the rest of the gang, minus Annabeth, charging through the doors. A terrible feeling was churning in his gut. He couldn’t hurt his friends even though they were more than willing to hurt him. For the first time, a true, pure sliver of doubt began to form within Will’s head.

 

\----Ω----

 

            Annabeth’s breath clouded the air in front of her, and she hugged herself to retain body heat, her arms covered in goosebumps as she shivered. She’d prepared for hot days, with the city being L.A. and all, but she was so far underground that the warmth had dissipated completely, not to mention that it was night. She didn’t really feel the cold, though, because her anticipation trumped everything else; she was hot on a trail, and was pretty sure that the Archangels were near. Though she had her arms wrapped around herself, her Celestial Bronze blade was nestled firmly within her hand. The blade gave her reassurance and fed her the power of the heavenly host, which washed over her in a wave that soothed her frayed nerves. The lights had gone out long ago, and that annoying message kept repeating itself over and over and over again, which made it difficult for Annabeth to concentrate on the task at hand. She was as wise as she was smart, and immediately after that alarm had blared she’d dove behind a column to allow the swathes of demons and fallen angels to pass before reemerging from her hiding spot.

            She wasn’t brash, though, and was perfectly capable of identifying her weaknesses. All of her other friends were in pairs, whereas she was alone, and they all had fallen angels to help guide them, not to mention the fact that their scents masked the humans’, while Annabeth was naked and exposed to anyone or anything that was sniffing her out. They could sense approaching foes and knew how to use the Celestial Bronze blades much better than the humans did, having trained with them for a good portion of their time in Heaven. Angels were warriors, the soldiers of God, and the fallen angels that accompanied them, minus the flight and the earth-shattering powers, were no different. They could fight like savages and dance around their opponents, their movements like fluid and their minds so much more advanced than Annabeth’s. She wished she’d gotten to have a glimpse of Heaven’s archives, because she would probably be a kid in a candy shop amongst the tablets and scrolls that were older than the universe itself. Maybe Percy could take her there if they ever one this war.

            _Percy._

Annabeth’s heart stuttered every time she thought of the black-feathered angel, and it was so frustrating; she’d fallen in love with a being that’d clearly been off-limits from the start. They couldn’t be together because of the divide between their two…species, she supposed…and if they did meet in secret, Percy would fall from grace. Annabeth didn’t want to have all of that time and all of that energy invested in getting the angel’s wings back go to waste, and despite the fact that Percy’s reasoning was more than fair, she couldn’t help but feel a bitter resentment towards him. Now here she was, putting her ass on the line for an angel that wouldn’t, couldn’t, have anything to do with her, but she immediately felt guilty after thinking in such a way. Percy was probably locked away somewhere in a cold, dark cell, being tortured to death over and over and over again. He probably had lost all hope. Had probably given up a long time ago. The thought made Annabeth’s gut twist with remorse that was beyond belief, and she had to shake her head clear of the thoughts if she was going to accomplish her task.

            She’d found a door at the end of the hallway she’d chosen, about thirty minutes ago, and after picking the savage-looking lock on it with the tools she’d brought, in case a situation like that came up, she’d descended the stairs that the door revealed. She was certainly getting the prison vibe from this place, and the announcement had long since been left behind, however in its place came the eerie but distant cries and moans of pain of those contained within the cells. Annabeth truly and sincerely wanted the monotone voice back, anything to keep out the wails and the sobs of those who’d been imprisoned within Lucifer’s palace. When she looked through the bars on the doors, most of them were empty, which she was glad for, but there would be the occasional grinning skull or lumpy heap that had once resembled something. Chills pranced down Annabeth’s back and tickled the back of her neck, and it certainly wasn’t because of the cold, which she’d grown accustomed to by now.

            Her blade gleamed in the dim lights of the prison block, and it made Annabeth ache for her old dagger, which was all the way back at the Golden Swords’ headquarters. She was so consumed in her thoughts that she nearly missed the sight that sprawled in front of her when she turned a corner. Annabeth was on the third and final tier of a multi-floored prison, and there was only a thin metal railing that would keep someone from plummeting to their death, for the floors circled around the perimeter of the walls, leaving the center open. There were so many cells lining the side opposite to the railing, and Annabeth felt a sinking feeling in her chest when she realized that she’d have to search all of them for Percy, Jason, and the Archangels. She hoped her friends were faring well, considering that there was no one else here besides the prisoners, which was odd. She had no time to ponder over this, however, because that’s when a terrible roar ripped through the entire prison complex, completely wiping away any suspicion that this place was unguarded.

            Annabeth looked around desperately for a hiding place, her eyes darted around as her body made aborted movements towards the directions she thought were safest. She didn’t have time to pick the locks of the cells and hide inside one of them, and even if she did she had no idea what sort of nasty creature was waiting for her. There was zero chance of her being able to leap from one side to the other, and going back wasn’t an option; the creature would only follow her. All of her chances of escape were scattered to the wind as the beating of wings, like the pulsing of a heart, filled her ears, and she was pretty sure her heart stopped when a gigantic monster faced her, using its wings to hover in midair by the platform.

            It was so gruesome that for a few moments Annabeth’s feet were glued to the ground as she took it all in. The monster was undoubtedly female, as proven by the breastplates that covered her naughty bits, as well as the smooth angles of her face. Those were the only two things that could have her mistaken for a human. Her hair was a writhing mass of snakes, their blood red eyes boring into Annabeth as their tongues darted in and out, tasting her scent and apparently liking it as they hissed their approval. Her waist was covered in fur and had the miniature heads of deadly predators poking out of it, which would’ve been comical had those heads not been spitting and snarling, baring their teeth as their eyes glowed as red as the snakes’. From her position, Annabeth could see a bear, a lion, a tiger, and a goat, which seemed a little out of place. That wasn’t even the worst part, though, because she was like a centaur gone wrong; instead of a horse’s body, she had a dragon’s, and the leathery bat wings that protruded from its shoulders had rips and tears in them. It was a miracle that they were keeping her aloft at all. A scorpion’s stinger served as a tail, and Annabeth swallowed hard when the creature drew two scimitars whose scabbards were strapped to her back.

            “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she crooned in a sickly sweet voice, though her words were sharp and halting, signaling that English wasn’t her first language. From the inhuman hisses and rumbles that filled the spaces in between, Annabeth wasn’t willing to find out what that was. When Annabeth didn’t reply, her green eyes grew hard and a chilling, close-mouthed smile crept across her features, though the blonde caught glimpses of the serrated teeth that her lips had hidden. “To start off, little human, I’m Kampê, also known as Sonnilian, but I’ll kill you slower if you call me that.” Annabeth was only barely able to roll out of the way as the dragon woman dove towards her, landing on the platform so hard that cracks riddled its surface. Annabeth was barely able to process the fact that she was fighting an _actual demon_ , before Kampê began to slice and dice with her scimitars, and if Annabeth hadn’t gone through intense battle training, she would’ve been sliced to ribbons by now.

            Kampê was slowly pushing forwards, and now Annabeth had to block her blows with her considerably shorter blade. The fight wasn’t looking so good, the human noted, so she decided to choose flight. Judging from the distance between the third floor platform and the second floor platform, the drop shouldn’t kill her, but she needed to stall Kampê long enough so that the dragon lady didn’t skewer her with her swords or her scorpion stinger, which was leaking a clear, mysterious liquid that looked very, very poisonous, considering that the floor bubbled when it made contact with it. She really didn’t want that thing buried inside her chest. The only diversion she had in her hands was her sword, since she still needed the lock pick to bust Percy and Jason out, but the Celestial Bronze blade was very, very necessary right now. Then again, if Annabeth had a chance to drop to the lower floors, where the more strong looking cells lay, she wouldn’t have to fight. She would die either way, he decided, and even though her odds were next to nothing, she needed to take the chance, because she had zero odds if she stayed to fight Kampê.

            Aiming at the Crocodile that had replaced the lion in the dragon lady’s front, Annabeth hurled her sword with all the might she could muster. Kampê let out a shriek of surprise, which was thankfully mingled with pain, and ripped the blade, which had instead landed smack-dab on her belly button, from her body. Black blood poured from the wound, sizzling when it touched the ground, and Kampê grinned wickedly. “I’m afraid your little attempt at killing me has f-” The demon then seemed to notice the fact that Annabeth was nowhere in sight. She let out a bellow of frustration and took back to the air, but that only made her lose precious time when she saw Annabeth scrambling on the bottom floor. With a screech, she dove towards her, and Annabeth could feel the blood roaring in her ears as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her towards the nearest cell, not even caring who it belonged to at this point.

            Kampê’s claws dragged across the ground, making a spine-chilling screeching sound as the serrated talons gauged deep marks into the large stone bricks that made up the floor. Annabeth heard Kampê swoop back up into the empty air, as well as the whistle of wind that showed she was diving down for another strike. She scrabbled for her lock-pick and dove towards the door as the demon’s claws whistled past her ear, and the dragon woman looped back around to attack once more. The lock was simple and would normally be quick to open, but Annabeth’s hands were shaking and her fingers fumbled with the tools.

            “I’m not going to let you get away like that blond-haired bitch of a boy did!” Kampê screeched, hovering in midair only a few yards away from where Annabeth was furiously picking the lock. She was so close, so close; just a few more seconds and she’d be home free. “I reported his escape to Lucifer, you know. He’s probably dead meat!” Though her blood ran cold, she didn’t cease her actions, and she was a millisecond away from getting it to open, vaguely aware of the sound of Kampê swooping down once more. The lock fell, but not before a terrible burning sensation spread through her back. The demon cackled and touched down on the second floor, her green eyes shining with glee as she watched.

            Annabeth crumbled to her knees right in front of the door, black spots dancing in front of her eyes as her blood seemed to catch fire. She only barely managed to turn the handle and collapse over the threshold, her breathing going ragged as she closed the door behind her. What was wrong? Why was she in so much pain? Her wound felt only like a pinprick…

            _The poison._

Annabeth took in a shaky breath and calmed herself down, allowing her heartbeat to slow. She moved very slowly, knowing that if her blood didn’t flow as fast the poison would take longer to get to her heart. She was so preoccupied that she missed the raspy, “Jason?” She froze in her tracks; that voice sounded very familiar.

            “Who are you?” she demanded, though her voice was growing hoarse and strangled.

            “I’m Michael and you’re hurt. I can smell Kampê’s poison on you,” the faceless voice replied. “You need to get help, and fast. You’re a human, aren’t you? One of Jason’s friends?”

            “Yes,” Annabeth confirmed, though she was a bit hesitant. What if this wasn’t really Michael? She couldn’t see him in this complete darkness, and she was unsure of whether she could trust him or not. “What’s it to you?”

            “Your comrades are currently facing off against Lucifer…and Jason and Percy,” Michael-but-maybe-not-Michael told her, and she was pretty sure her heart stopped.

            “What?!” she hissed. “Are you lying?”

            “I swear it on my wings,” he replied, his voice deadly serious. “Lucifer has Jason and Percy under a spell, and the only way that you can break it is to kill him or send him back to Hell. I can do both. You’re dying and I’m as good as dead, so I’m proposing a communalistic relationship.” Annabeth knew that from her time in school, which she’d taken up after the whole Percy fiasco went down. It was where both organisms benefit from a symbiotic relationship.

            “You want me as…a vessel?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

            “Indeed,” it was as if Michael already knew wat her reply was going to be, and he quickly cut her off as soon as she opened her mouth. “You probably don’t trust me now that Giel has ruined your view on vessels.”

            “No kidding,” Annabeth scoffed, meaning to sound defiant, but the low whimper of pain at the end ruined the effect.

            “But you don’t really have another option. _I_ don’t really have another option,” the Archangel’s voice sounded pained. “I’m very, very wounded, and you have exactly two minutes to live,” Annabeth’s stomach dropped like a leaden ball as he said this so matter-of-factly, “We need each other. I swear that I won’t do anything to harm you…Annabeth,” the human jerked violently as he said the name she had never given him, “I’m the only one who can defeat Lucifer and Kampê, but I can’t do it in this state. You’re in no shape to fight. The only thing we can really do is trust each other.”

            “And why should I? How should I know that you aren’t some backstabber angel or demon or fallen angel that’s out to get a meat suit?” she demanded, but her voice was growing weaker. She could feel her heart slowing down as the venom crept towards it, and she only had a limited amount of time before it breached her arteries.

            “You don’t,” Michael replied. Annabeth worried her bottom lip in between her teeth and tried to come up with some sort of plan, anything that would keep her alive aside from taking this Archangel’s offer. “You’re strong. Not many are as strong as you, and you can handle my power. Please, I’m begging you.” Annabeth was resigned, and she accepted her fate with open arms. Her thoughts were clouding, but she was still alert enough to hear Michael’s soft, heartbroken whisper, “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s wanted him for a mate.”

            Annabeth opened her mouth to reply.

 

\----Ω----

 

            There was blood everywhere. Whether it was on her hands, dripping from her face, coming from her own body, or filling her nostrils with its terrible stench, it was there. She’d stopped trying to think a long time ago and just began to hack and slice and stab at whatever came at her that didn’t have wings. She was terrified, so very terrified, and her heart was roaring in her chest as she plunged her sword into a demon’s chest, pulling it out with a sickening squelch. She was distantly reminded of the fact that that sound used to bother her. She had no idea how many she killed, but it just kept coming. She couldn’t see over the masses, and she was stepping on dead bodies and bloody feathers, which had her crying at one point, but the tears had long since dried. She couldn’t find Frank. Where was he? She didn’t know. Her thoughts orbited around a single thought: _survive._ The fallen angel crumbled to the ground as she hacked his head off, and the severed part rolled away and was trampled to mush by the writhing bodies locked in combat. She’d confronted only one Watcher as of now, having run Encleadus though with her sword as if he were made of butter. She was also pretty sure that a three-headed dog had attacked her, but she’d killed it so fast that she couldn’t be sure. Her side and her leg were screaming, and her thoughts were muddled and unfocused. When would this terror end?

            _Survive. Survive. Survive. Survive. Survive._

\----Ω----

 

            Leo didn’t think they were going to make it. They’d been dodging and parrying Percy and Jason’s attacks for a while now, and neither of them seemed to show any sign of tiring. Though their movements were swift and calculated, capable of fending off their enemies despite the fact that they were outnumbered, it was like watching puppets dance around on strings. Lucifer was their puppet master, and he seemed to be having one hell of a time as he reclined upon his stupid throne with that stupid look on his face. It was so frustrating that Leo had all of these weapons at his disposal but couldn’t use them, lest he mortally wound his friends. They were mindless, like zombies, and he would never hurt them if they didn’t know what they were doing. He could vaguely hear the bellows and rumbles and clashes of battle that was going on a ways down the hall, and he prayed that the angels were holding out. If they were slaughtered, nothing was keeping the armies from storming in and tearing him and his friends to shreds.

            He worked in tandem with Calypso, and they knew each other like they knew the backs of their hands. She was vicious with a Celestial Bronze blade, sometimes holding it point facing out, like a sword, and sometimes holding it point down, like a knife. Leo was pretty sure she knew an infinite amount of different ways to kill someone with that angel blade, and he concentrated on how proud he was of her instead of the sinking feeling in his stomach. As of now their strategy was surround Percy, who was flightless, and Jason with a tight circle, and ward them off with their weapons whenever they got too close. Jason was a bit more wary, since he could be killed by so many more things than Percy, but both of them were growing more daring and confident when they realized that their opponents were hesitant to inflict damage. Piper had a shallow slice on her cheekbone, as a result of Jason’s new spear, which just so happened to be long range. He could poke and prod all he wanted, whereas the others had to get close to land a hit. He felt very sorry for Piper, who looked beyond pained to see her husband reduced to a hollow servant, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like to have your lover turn on you like that. At that moment Perseus leapt forwards, his teeth bared in a snarl as he raised his Stygian Iron dagger, but balked as Leo aimed his flamethrower gloves at him.

            It was an invention of his, which he spent a lot of his time perfecting, and its name was engraved into it: _Hephaestus._ He was the Greek god of fire, so Leo thought the name was fitting. It’d become a part of him over the years, and was a wrist-mounted flamethrower that shot fire whenever he moved his hand a certain way. It would be disastrous if it hit one of his friends, with Percy’s feathers and Jason’s, well, mortality, and he tried to reserve it just for a threat. They couldn’t stay locked like this forever, though; pretty soon one side was going to crack, and it didn’t seem like Percy and Jason would be that side. They were beginning to call the human and fallen angels’ bluff, getting up real close and smiling wickedly when they didn’t attack. Will looked so tired, finding it difficult to stay on his feet as he threatened Jason with his blade, a threat that the other actually laughed at before continuing his prowling. Annabeth was nowhere in sight, and by the looks on everyone’s faces they suspected the worst. Confrontation with a soldier, perhaps? They didn’t know, but the crushing guilt of allowing her to go off on her own seemed to weigh heavily on both their bodies and minds.

            That’s when all hell broke loose.

            Percy, who’d seemed very interested in taunting Piper, whose gleaming blade didn’t seem to faze him at all, suddenly leapt across the circle with agility that no human could muster, tackling Reyna to the ground. Jason took the group’s moment of shock to knock Leo’s legs out from under him. His head hit the ground and he saw stars, but not before two hands were wrapped around his throat, squeezing and squeezing. He gasped for air and only the faintest sliver managed to get through, and the dead blue eyes of his friend were glinting with a chilled humor as his grip tightened. Jason’s body jostled and shook above him, and he supposed that his friends were trying to get the blue-eyed boy off, and he struggled weakly to try and help them. It was no use, because Jason’s hands were like a vice closing around Leo’s throat. Black began to creep to the edges of his vision as he gasped for air and found none to breathe in, and he didn’t have enough energy to struggle anymore. He clutched Jason’s wrists and tried to pull, but Leo was a tinker and Jason was a seasoned warrior. There was really no contest. He felt himself slipping as the black consumed his vision, and he could vaguely hear the screams and cries of his comrades. He’d been proud to fight alongside them, but he was now drifting away…

            Away.

            Away.

            Away.

            Then suddenly he could breathe, and he gulped for air like a fish out of water, gasping and coughing. The sound of one thousand nuclear bombs seemed to fill his ears, and a blinding white light consumed his vision. He needed to see…he needed to….he needed…sleep.

 

\----Ω----

 

            Leo and Reyna were unconscious but not dead, Nico noted as he saw their chests rise and fall. He would’ve sensed their souls ascending to Heaven as well, since the Metatron had told him that there were two angels of death, Hades, his own father, and Thanatos, on standby in case any of his human friends had to be helped. Angels rebirthed on their own time, which Nico was glad for; if the casualties were as bad as they were during the last big wars, the death angels wouldn’t stand a chance gathering all of the souls and bringing them to Heaven without Azrael, and therefore they wouldn’t be able to ascend. They’d be trapped somewhere in between the two panes of reality, which Nico supposed was very painful. But that wasn’t his main concern right now, because he turned towards the door and only a single word came into his mind:

            _Glory._

It was Annabeth but…not. Her eyes, instead of the intense grey that was the norm, were blazing, as if two stars had completely consumed her eye sockets. Her hair shined like threads of woven gold, and a halo wreathed her head. She was glowing, and not in a metaphorical way. No, she was literally _glowing,_ and the power radiating from her washed over Nico and comforted him with the familiar feeling of Heaven, and it calmed the fallen angel considerably; it felt like _home_. There was also that underlying layer to it, a vicious but fair force that was a warning that dared others to step into her path and meddle with her plans. But there was also something else, and the fallen death angel recognized it as a wispy thread of grace that, though slightly battered, was burning brighter than one thousand suns inside of Annabeth’s body. He knew that grace all too well, and without a second thought he sunk to one knee, dragging Will down with him. The others soon followed his lead, though if their expressions told the fallen angel anything, it would be that they were too awed to really process what was happening. Piper and Calypso had tears in their eyes as they looked upon their leader with much gladness, and there was no doubt that they could see it too.

            “Lord Michael,” he whispered, and the overwhelming pride he felt for Annabeth was full to bursting. Her wings spread out behind her, forty feet of white feathers that glittered gold when they caught the light, and they were as beautiful as they were glorious, though their image flickered and sputtered as they tried to materialize from a human body. Nico’s heart almost stopped when he smelled the venom that was coursing through Annabeth’s body, could hear it being scorched away by the flaming licks of grace. She’d been dying, he realized, and soon after Nico noticed that Michael had been far too injured to fight, as his battered grace suggested, so they’d drawn upon one another in this time of crisis. Annabeth’s body was giving Michael power, and in turn Michael was giving Annabeth power; this was what vessels were meant to be, a fusion of two species to form a single being that was all powerful and all knowing. The wisdom and raw power of the angels and the street smarts and instincts of a human combined to make the ultimate being, one that could never be overcome by another.

            Lucifer seemed to realize this all too late, and his face had gone pale.

            “You might want to get a new prison guard,” said Michael and Annabeth at once, their voices blending and melding into something that was as beautiful as it was deadly. Even though they took the form of one being, it was still two. Just because Annabeth’s body was the one that was being shown as of now didn’t mean that Michael was gone, and vice versa; just because Michael was in Annabeth’s head didn’t mean that Annabeth wasn’t there as well. Their form flickered and became solid, as did the wings, and instead of Annabeth stood Archangel Michael in all of his divine holiness, his hair coincidentally the same color as Annabeth’s. His eyes were now a sharp grey, bordering on silver as they glowed faintly.

            “B-brother…” Lucifer stammered as his eyes darted around wildly in search of escape, but Michael and Annabeth were blocking the only exit. “Please, hear me out-”

            “There will be none of that, thank you,” they rumbled, and amusement was tinging their voice, a mocking laughter that made Lucifer’s hands ball into fists. He hadn’t fought his brother since the original War in Heaven, and he’d still lost despite the fact that he was at full power at the time. He couldn’t possibly win when he was fallen, and that realization was plain on the ex-Archangel’s face, whose expressions were flitting from one to the next and couldn’t settle down.

            “What’s going on?” Will whispered from Nico’s left, nearly scaring the fallen angel out of his wits. He’d been so wrapped up in the events going on that he’d forgotten his lover was there. Quickly, he surveyed the damage; Piper was checking on Leo and Reyna, who were now sitting upright and talking, though their eyes were still darting between Lucifer and Michael, who’d lapsed into an eerie silence. Will’s voice, though excited and brimming with anticipation, sounding a bit alarmed and anxious. Nico traced his lover’s jawline with his thumb, just like how Will had done before they’d dove into battle.

            “We’ve won,” he whispered, grinning a very sincere grin, and he saw Will’s shoulders sag with the relief, his eyes growing glassy as he buried his face into the crook of Nico’s neck.

            “Thank God. Thank _God_ ,” the blond whispered, his hands fisting the fabric of Nico’s jacket. “We made it. The misfits made it.” The fallen angel’s sleeve was growing wet with tears, and Nico didn’t want to start crying, too. That would be for later, after they’d fucked each other into the mattress. A silent battle was going on between the Archangels, and judging by the livid look on Michael’s face and the slightly alarmed one on Lucifer’s, the eldest was winning.

            It was the devil who finally broke the silence and spoke, his voice pleading, “I can give you everything you want and more.” Michael scoffed at this, and Lucifer’s muscles visibly seized as he was pinned down under the other Archangel’s burning gaze. The fallen Archangel had lost all of his assets to winning the war; bribery, confidence, and the upper hand, and Nico could see how he was floundering. Michael was much more powerful than Lucifer, and it was like a cat toying with its dinner. “Please, brother,” he whispered, now sounded desperate. Nico felt no pity for him.

            “No,” Michael and Annabeth replied simply, their voice cold and ruthless. “You’ve tortured me, my angels, and my comrades. I think you need to be put in your place.”

            “I’m begging y-” Lucifer never finished that sentence, because at that moment Michael and Annabeth snapped their shared fingers and he was consumed in a burst of bright light that, for a moment, filled Nico’s eyes with a blinding white that consumed everything and everyone. The deafening bellow of the explosion soon followed, and he face-planted into the ground as a terrifyingly strong blast knocked into him. He staggered to his feet and saw the circle of ash where Lucifer used to be standing, and nothing could compare to the huge tidal wave of relief that washed over him in that moment. Then, and only then, did Nico relax.

            “He’s back in Hell, this time in a place he won’t come crawling back out of,” Annabeth and Michael mused, mostly to themselves, a slight smirk playing on their lips. The others seemed to be in a state of shock, clinging to each other with their eyes trained on the empty space that the King of Hell used to occupy, as if he’d just materialize once more and guffaw at how they should’ve seen the looks on their faces. Nico wouldn’t put it past Lucifer to do something like that, but he knew that he was saved as Jason and Percy began to stir on the ground, where they’d collapsed right after Lucifer had disappeared. The gang seemed to lurch back into motion, a groggy dog suddenly woken up from its slumber, and they immediately hustled over to surround their two fallen friends, asking one question after another as the angel and the human sat upright and blinked around blearily.

            “Give them some space, guys,” Nico ordered, pushing towards them, but despite his stern tone his face was alight with joy. Percy’s face lit up at the sight of him, and Jason looked beyond relieved, rubbing circles on his forehead and grimacing a bit. He must’ve had a nasty migraine. “How you feeling?”

            “Great,” Percy announced, at the same time as Jason grumbled, “Terrible.” This pulled a laugh from the others, one that was mostly for releasing the tension that had built up rather than because it was funny, though when Jason joined in he winced and clutched his head.

            “I feel like I’ve been hit by a brick,” he grouched, sounding a lot like the eighty-seven year old man that was in his place but a few months ago. His grimace had turned into an all-out scowl, as if he was angry at his body for having a migraine, and it was quite funny to Nico.

            Piper sighed and rolled her eyes, giving everyone an exasperated look that clearly stated ‘ _I can’t believe I have chosen this man as my husband_ ’. Out loud, she chided, “How come I’m not surprised?” Jason opened his mouth, seeming offended, but didn’t have time to object as his wife dragged him off to the side to inspect his injuries, her inner angel of healing kicking into motion and making her super protective.

            “What happened?” Percy asked as they hauled him to his feet, but his question was answered when he saw Michael and Annabeth standing off to the side quietly. Politely. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, and he drew away from his friends and walked over slowly, an expression that was a mix of joy, bewilderment, and hesitance plain on his face. Michael and Annabeth smiled at him, their wings fluttering in anticipation. “Michael?” the messenger angel asked faintly, seeming confused about the color of the Archangel’s eyes, which were normally blue.

            “And Annabeth,” said Michael in Annabeth’s voice. Percy looked like he’d been slapped across the face, and they quickly rushed to cover for themselves. It was pretty funny to hear a single being talk with two different voices and Nico crossed his arms and watched smugly. “I was poisoned by Kampê, the jail guard, while trying to get to the Archangels.”

            “The rest, by the way, are camping out in the prison waiting for the all-clear,” Michael cut in. His expression was one of joy, and he seemed beyond delighted to be finally talking to his messenger once more. There was something else under that, though, and Nico couldn’t really identify it merely by scent and expression; it was too confusing, too tender to be considered platonic, and the fallen angel felt himself putting the pieces together.

            Good Lord, this was going to be fun to watch.

            “I managed to pick the lock and drag myself inside. Michael was there and he wasn’t doing so well,” Annabeth told him, and Percy was completely ignorant of the signs, which Nico wasn’t at all surprised about; One, he was probably in shock, and two, this was Percy. He was physically incapable of taking hints. “And neither was I.”

            “My wings were nearly severed, my powers fading. We decided to save each other,” Michael continued, spreading his arms and wings in unison. “This is what a true angel and human symbiosis looks like.” Michael’s form flickered to show Annabeth once more, though their wings had found a way to conjure themselves so that its image wasn’t sputtering and quivering. Percy was locked in a semi-permanent state of awe, his eyes sliding over Annabeth, who did, indeed, look beautiful, and Michael’s wings that were spread behind her, which now belonged to the two of them.

            “You’ll be able to talk to both of us, but the other is always listening so don’t go around talking shit.” It was funny to see Annabeth’s expression turned into one of confusion at her own words, and that was undoubtedly Michael’s doing, being unfamiliar with earthly slang. “There’s no real head honcho in this body. We’re just…us. No, not the same person, don’t look at me like that, we’re still us. It’s just that sometimes we’ll be Michael and sometimes we’ll be me. We’re working on a schedule now.”

            “It’s coming along very well,” Annabeth announced in Michael’s voice, sounding very proud.

            “This is a lot to process,” Percy whispered, and his hands didn’t seem to know what to do, wringing together and jittering by his sides. His eyes were wide beyond comparison, like a startled owl’s.

            “Just kiss me, Feather Brain,” Annabeth demanded and dragged the messenger angel by the collar of his suit until their lips locked together. Almost everyone in the room ‘Aww’ed, and even Nico will admit that he joined in, and he wished he had a camera to photograph the shell-shocked look on Percy’s face when Annabeth drew away, smiling teasingly. “I’m technically an angel now, so-” She was cut off when Percy grabbed her waist and pulled her close, sealing his mouth against hers for a deeper, more intimate kiss. Their wings fanned out, the feathers meshing together as their graces entwined, and Nico couldn’t help but let out a scoff:

            “Get a nest, you two.”

 

**END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your thoughts for the last chapter! There will be an epilogue and several timestamps, so don’t fret just yet (ha that rhymed) I love you all, especially those who stuck with me through this year-long journey in the world of Feathers(?)
> 
> XOXO
> 
> -Iwovepizza
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own PJO


	19. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

_Needless to say, this scroll has been much longer than I’d intended it would be. Though it is not scribed on a tablet and therefore is not of God’s Word, I sincerely hope that this isn’t overlooked by those who only want the words to come from the Creator’s mouth. These accounts are of my very own experiences and of the heroes within the story, as well as a multitude of bits and pieces from other angels who’d lived through this legendary event. Mortals are probably unaware of this happening, and it is probably best that it stays that way, but my personal opinion is that a few should know of this historic war, as well as the stories of the heroes whose names will be sung in hymns and passed down through millennia. They may not be heroes in the mortal world, and a few of them technically don’t exist at all, but all of those who die, whether they go to Heaven or Hell, will hear of their names. The Seraphim have created new songs, ones that praise Annabeth, and there are others for every other member of the Golden Swords. The tales of the rogue, sinful humans that turned into saints amongst the heavens will be passed down for eternity. At one point or another they will join the host in paradise, and the memories of their heroic actions will live on in the hearts of angels both old and young._

_Hazel and Frank were promoted to centurions for their heroic deeds and their exceptional skills within the battle, and Hazel was awarded with a pegasus from the stables named Arion. Luckily, the war sustained minimal casualties on Heaven’s side. Those angels who have died will be reborn into another angel, and though they will have no memory of their past, they will still be remembered in the form of a memorial that was erected in the Machen’s central square; one of marble that depicts our glorious Lord Michael and his equally glorious vessel, St. Annabeth Chase, watching over a lamb that has the names of those who’d fallen in battle engraved onto its fleece.  See the statue, “_ Michael vigilat ad caesorum _” ( Sculpted by the angel Terminus), in Machen or locate its scroll in the archives. Hazel and Frank, as well as Gwen and Dakota, do not have their own tablets like the others do, however you can get their side of the story from the angels’ home in Machen and the humans’ in the Third Heaven, though they have requested to conceal their address for the sake of privacy._

_The humans and their fallen angel comrades were also awarded for their heroics, which is no big surprise. The fallen angels had all of their old weaponry and armor returned to them from storage, and even though the host suggested to extend their help in finding Nico di Angelo’s wings, since he was the only one who was artificially fallen, the ex-death angel had declined. The humans had been given seats on the Council, whose meetings they attended despite the fact that it was optional, and became the first mortals to be represented amongst Heaven. Though a few angels disagreed, the others argued that human souls lived in Heaven as well; it wasn’t just the angels, and they wanted to help and defend their home just as much as the divine powers did._

_All of them had remained in Heaven afterwards, claiming that they hadn’t wanted to age much more after their previous experiences, and the fallen angels that followed their lovers were welcomed into the gates with open arms, becoming the first fallen angels to live anywhere but in the Second Heaven. Their addresses have been concealed as well. Leo and Calypso went on to open literally the most popular tool shop in the universe; it received more customers every day than there were humans on the planet Earth, and its staff was numbered approximately two hundred thousand, mostly consisting of fire angels. Hephaestus and Atlas Tool Shop remains the ideal place for all of your carpenter, architect, and inventor needs, their stock ranging from light bulbs to chainsaws, and is located within the Capitol in the Fourth Heaven._

_Jason and Piper live in a secluded house in the Third Heaven, with Will and Nico as neighbors, and they “do absolutely jack shit” to make up for their years of hard work in the mortal world. Though Piper has been offered many positions in all hospitals far and wide, she has turned them all down in favor for an incredibly early retirement, and occasionally models for magazines and advertisements as the companies pounce on her fame and her stunning beauty. Jason likes teaching classes to fledglings on battle, but sometimes he attracts adults, who are eager to learn human tactics that are way different from the angelic style of fighting. The “no-wings-rule” is a subject of complaint, since Jason insists that humans never had wings so therefore the tactics weren’t meant to have them included, but it makes the angels prepared for times their wings are injured in a fight, though from the way that it’s looking there will be peace in Heaven for many, many millennia to come._

_Nico and Will have gone into retirement as well, however Will has begun taking classes from healing angels, Piper included, in order to get a firmer grasp on medicine. Even though he doesn’t have the angelic abilities that the angels do, he can still perform many of the tests and tasks that healers usually do on their patients. In the war, two lovers died side-by-side, leaving their three fledglings orphaned, and the two had been keen to take them under their wing, no pun intended. Though it is a hassle to handle three rambunctious little balls of energy, they’ve been scraping along with minimal time for themselves._

_“I don’t sleep,” says Will as I interview him, taking a very, very long swing of scalding and highly caffeinated coffee without breaking eye contact. There are shadows under his eyes, and under Nico’s as well, which is understandable since two of the three fledglings are twins and therefore infants, the other one rolling into the toddler stage. They say that they’ll get Nico’s sister, Hazel (who also serves as a much-needed babysitter for the couple’s handful of reprieves), is teaching them to fly so they don’t have to worry._

_“We still worry, though,” Nico admits flatly, boasting his best ‘long-suffering parent’ expression as he holds an equally caffeinated and equally large mug of coffee. “Our best friends have been Red Bull and coffee. Lots...and lots…of coffee.” His gaze then becomes unfocused and I left them to get their much-needed sleep before the children woke up._

_Reyna has reunited with her late husband in the Third Heaven, though they live a ways from Jason, Piper, Will, and Nico, however their visits are very frequent. She has become the first human to hold a military position in Heaven’s armies, and has quickly climbed the ranks. Though she has not achieved centurion status, she is demonstrating skill that angels dream of having. Her husband is proud of her and, even though she sometimes has to leave for long periods to train, he’s glad that she’s once again taken up her dream of joining the military and helping people._

_Annabeth and Percy have an entirely separate tablet that contains their love story and there are currently several films in the process of being made that is based on just that. It is literally too long to be contained within this epilogue. Annabeth and Michael have made a seven day system, where Michael takes control on four days and Annabeth willingly takes three; the workload has become immense, having built up over the course of the Archangel’s absence. Their form changes with the days, so you won’t be confused whether it’s an Annabeth day or a Michael day, but both of them uphold their position perfectly. Annabeth perfectly shoulders Michael’s responsibilities in her time of control, and makes an excellent leader. She is calm and level-headed, which is a great contrast to Michael’s hidden but fiery passion when it comes to the things he loves, and they both work together as one being. Even though Annabeth has no need for Michael to continue to heal her, she still remains loyal to the Archangel as his wounds slowly heal. It’s not only because yes, Percy wouldn’t be able to be her mate if they weren’t joined, but also because she and Michael have developed a tough-as-nails bond that cannot be compared to anything else._

_Percy serves out his job as messenger angel with renewed vigor this time around, because this time he’s serving his mate(s)? and is willing to fly one thousand laps around Heaven to get their messages delivered, becoming the first (surprise, surprise!) mate to an Archangel, for Michael’s brothers have yet to settle down and find room for mates. Speaking of whom, all have recovered fully and resumed their positions with minimal injuries, definitely not as bad as Michael’s had been, though they’ve become a bit more attached to their youngest brother’s messenger angel, considering that he’s their brother-in-law now. Perseus has broken the record for the fastest flyer when diving down towards Earth’s atmosphere to give a message to Rachel and her fallen angels, and had achieved a maximum speed of two miles per second, or seven thousand two hundred miles per hour during that time._

_In this story, all of the heroes got their happy ending, and that’s a big feat considering that not many tales of great champions ended in ways such as this. That’s why I’ve sent a handful of messengers down to Earth to spread this narrative to the world’s inhabitants. They will deliver it to select humans who have sworn under a vow of silence and will act oblivious when accused of their association with Heaven, not to mention that they will be executed painfully and cast into the depths of Hell if they reveal any of Heaven’s secrets except through this select chronicle, which may be split into two parts if necessary. They will do their weird little human thing and get this story out there so that everyone knows the actions of these heroes, and that they should never think that they are too small or too insignificant to do things. If a handful of mortals and outcasts could help defend the entirety of existence from Lucifer himself, there’s nothing that others like them can’t do._

_-The Third Heavenly War Scroll-_

_-Scribed by The Metatron-_


	20. Timestamp: Courting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important Notice: There is a sex scene after the second line break. It’s not too into detail like some other fics I’ve read, but it just so happens that Michael is the one who’s controlling the body at that time. Just a note that I have never written smut before.

_Chapter Soundtrack: Technicolor Beat by Oh Wonder_

\----Ω----

It all started when Perseus woke up to find a single blue rose lying on his dresser. It was a beautiful day, much like every other day in paradise, and Percy woke up with the sun. Light filtered through the windows and cast arching shadows onto the floor, and Percy was very, very comfortable; for his birthday Nico and Will had gotten him an incredibly oversized comforter, which was perfect because he could then fit his huge wings under the covers without letting all the cold air in. He was as snug as a bug in a rug, which made him reluctant to get out of bed to say the least, but Archangel Michael’s messages wouldn’t be able to deliver themselves. He groaned and sluggishly slipped out of bed, scratching his stomach absently as he stretched and completely uncaring of the fact that he was only wearing his boxers. That’s when the calm, soothing scent of the ocean reached his nose, and he turned to find the blue rose on his dresser, its cerulean petals unfurled and emitting a very, very pleasing scent.

            At first Percy was confused, since he was pretty sure that he hadn’t left such a flower next to his lamp the night before, but the pleased feeling that came with finding it trumped everything else. He ambled over to examine the rose curiously, very much resembling a perky dog exploring an unknown object, and the angel put the flower against his nose, nearly squashing it against his face as he inhaled the salty scent. After a few minutes of sniffing, and not in the dainty, attractive way, Percy finally noticed the small, folded note that had lain beside it. Finally leaving the poor flower alone, whose petals were slightly more rumpled than before, he set it down to examine the contents of card.

 

_This reminded me of you_

_-Your dearest admirer_

            Percy smiled softly at this, and even though he was a bit…slow…at times, he wasn’t a moron; he knew who this was from, judging by the lingering scent on the stem, on top of the fact this type of rose was grown in Michael’s rose garden; the Archangel would slit the throats of anyone who would dare to pick the cherished and well-loved flowers, so Perseus could only assume that he was the culprit. He found an empty vase in the far reaches of his closet, one that he’d received as a gift from his mother the day he’d received a job as Michael’s messenger. He didn’t have the heart to throw it out or give it away, and therefore had stored the thing until he could find some form of use for it. He filled it with water from his personal bathroom and placed the rose inside of it so that it would at least look decorative; things didn’t wilt in Heaven, and he didn’t want a random rose lying around his rather messy quarters, slowly disintegrating as it was subjected to constant manhandling and was eventually buried under piles of dirty clothes.

            After a few more moments of sniffing the flower, he threw on his clothes and left his room with a pep in his step.

            There was a problem, though. No matter how much he tried to catch Annabeth’s eye (It was her day today), he couldn’t get her attention. She didn’t even seem remotely interested in him whatsoever, and there weren’t any secret messages imbedded into her movements as far as the messenger could tell. It was so frustrating, and the worst part was that today was an incredibly busy day, so he was out delivering messages more often than not. He had plenty of time to stew in his own juices during his flights this way and that, and he found himself growing irritated. Other than that kiss after Lucifer’s downfall, which just so happened to be two months prior, Michael and Annabeth hadn’t so much as touched Percy. It was all very confusing; was the Archangel interested or not? He was pretty sure Annabeth had the hots for him, but was unsure if Michael was the same, and in that case the human would most certainly sacrifice her desires in order to make sure that he was comfortable.   

            The messenger decided, whilst on the way to deliver a scroll to Raphael that Annabeth had all too solemnly proclaimed regarded her brother’s birthday (seriously, what the fuck), Percy decided that all he could really do was hunker down and wait for the Signal. When he’d explained the woes of his love to Nico, who was his best angel(ish) friend and best confident, he and Will would always tell him to wait for the event that would very clearly spell out that the Archangel was into him, formally called the Signal with a capital S. The only problem was that Percy wasn’t too keen on picking up hints, and he wasn’t sure if the rose was the Signal and Annabeth and Michael were just waiting for him to make a move or if it was someone else who risked having their wings hung up on the wall. He highly doubted the latter, but he doubted the former even more. Maybe it was completely platonic? That couldn’t be; people, or angels, for that matter, in a “just friends” relationship didn’t give each other roses and call one another “admirers”.  The messenger couldn’t stop the whorl of emotions in his head, and it was all very bewildering.

            He came to the conclusion that the Archangel would confront him and ask him outright if he ignored the Signal, since Percy was always sure to discuss things rather than just pretend that they weren’t there. There were several more messages back and forth about Raphael’s birthday and the events itself, because the entirety of Heaven celebrated an Archangel’s birthday. Even though it was weird to deliver messages about b-day plans over mileage that would make even the hardiest and healthiest long distance runners keel over and have a heart attack, Raphael’s date of birth was no joke. Angels got very crazy drunk (as in consuming such copious amounts of beer that it was capable of killing ten people) in Raphael’s honor, and the Archangel wanted the minimal amount of angels cast out of Heaven for intoxication. They were probably setting up patrols that would stop those who had one too many from having three hundred seventy-six too many (that was the record as of that moment). Throughout that time, however, Annabeth payed zero attention to Percy except to thank him and send him off with another message, her tone very businesslike. Was she mad? Did Percy somehow upset her or Michael? That would be a very Percy-like thing to do, but thinking back, the only thing that would’ve upset the Archangel to the point of being distant was the kiss, and even then it was they who initiated it.

            Perseus had been dismissed for the day and was now wandering through the gardens aimlessly, trying to think of a way to approach the situation rather than just sit back. It truly was a beautiful morning. The light that came down and washed everything in a warm glow was not, indeed, sunlight, since Heaven existed beyond mortal space and time, but rather the glow that came from the Fifth Heaven, where the Creator resided. Cherry blossom petals fluttered lazily to the ground, their parent trees intermingling with the flowerbeds and eventually giving way to orchards with trees of all shapes and sizes. Flowers swayed in the breeze, all in full bloom, and some native to Earth and some not, but nevertheless they created a rainbow of colors that were dazzling to the eye. Sunflowers stretched into the sky next to the Sun Flowers, which were literally burning, pulsing suns with matching petals (they were a fire hazard and were therefore handled by special fire angel gardeners), and the aroma of a bunch of different scents mingling was odd but not unpleasant.

            Marble columns surrounded the gigantic gardens and orchards, giving a villa-like feel to it, and ivy and wisteria was inching along them and the surrounding walls. The foot paths were narrow and flanked on either side by small masonry walls, which were about waist height, and held the soil in which the flowers and trees bloomed. Every so often there would be a small courtyard with a Greek pavilion, every one being different, whether they had a statue or fountain as a centerpiece or simply had benches to sit and talk. Percy found it all very relaxing, and he reveled in the sounds of the birds chirping and the petals and branches rustling. He was deep in thought when the delicate sound of nature were ruptured by the distant thrum of beating wings.

            He paused in his walking as the other angel touched down and turned to find Hazel, her golden eyes glowing in welcome and her brown feathers rippling like an eagle’s. Needless to say, he was surprised; considering her military status, it was odd to find her and Frank anywhere but the barracks. Percy expected her to be dropping in to say hello or something like that, but he certainly didn’t expect her to hand him a scroll that was neatly tied with blue ribbon. He was pretty sure he heard giggling as he opened it, but when he looked up to thank her and question who it was from, she was already but a speck in the distance. That made him suspicious, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked over the neat, loopy cursive that was on the scroll:

 

_Go back to your quarters for a surprise._

_-Your dearest admirer_

            Never had Percy run so fast, and he could hear the giddy flutter of his heart in his chest as he propelled himself towards his room, sometimes even flying in short beats of his wings when the hallway was long enough. He overshot his room a bit, cursing Newton’s First Law, and scrambled to get back to his door, twisting the knob with a bit too much violence and throwing it open so hard he nearly ripped it from its hinges. His room was just the same as before, and his hopes fell as his expectations of seeing Michael and Annabeth sitting on the bed dissipated. He had no time to mourn his losses, however, because what _was_ on the bed just so happened to be a full-grown pegasus. No joke. There was a gigantic horse with an even more gigantic wingspan, and it snorted in greeting, though there was a scoff imbedded in it that seemed to tell him, _“What took you so long?”_ He was rooted to the ground at first, staring at it slack-jawed, but he finally managed to make his feet move as he walked hesitantly over to the pegasus. He was well aware of the fact that these guys were vicious and willing to kill, and he didn’t want to be this winged horse’s next victim.

            Its coat was a glossy black, with wings to match that reminded him a lot of his own, and his eyes glittered with an exceptional intelligence. It watched Percy as he studied all of the jagged scars that littered its coat, and he realized that this pegasus, like most, had fought in the two Wars. It was an experienced warrior, having seen more battle than Perseus hopefully ever will, and even though he was slightly worried that it would poop on his bed, which was holding up surprisingly well, he had great respect for this pegasus.

            “Um…hi,” he began, and the horse looked amused.

            “Hello,” it replied in a sleek masculine voice that sent Percy staggering back in astonishment. He shifted on the bed a bit, causing it to creak and groan, and situated himself in what the messenger angel could only assume was a comfier position. “I’m Blackjack.” It took Percy a while to reply as he took this all in; pegasi could talk, apparently, and he’s pretty sure that all of their trainers new this.

            “Hey, Blackjack,” he said slowly, and the horse laughed, which was creepy considering it was a human’s voice coming from a pegasus’ vocal cords. “Um...not that I’m not honored by your presence but...what are you doing in my bedroom?”

            “I’d like to ask you the same thing,” Blackjack scoffed. “The little game that they, your ‘dearest admirer’, is playing is quite an odd one. They told me not to reveal their identity until you figure it out for yourself, though it’s not that hard to see that they’re head over heels for you. I just wanted donuts. The stables keep you on a strict low-fat, no-carb, gluten free, and dairy free diet. I just wanted donuts and they said I could have donuts if I sat on your bed and served as your steed. I said ‘ok’ and I have to admit your bed is comfy.” To prove a point the pegasus collapsed onto his side, snorting in content and causing Percy’s bed to groan in opposition. “You angels and your courting. It’s so silly.” Blackjack completely ignores the way Percy jolts at the words. He was being courted? “But I,” the messenger angel blinks and suddenly there’s a huge, drooling black mastiff lying on the covers, “am going to do whatever it takes to stay on this bed. I am _not_ going to be sleeping on hay again.”

            “W-w-what?!” Percy spluttered, trying to take it all in. “You…how- what…” The dog made a grunting noise that sounded a whole lot like a chuff of laughter.

            “Yes, you are being courted. Yes, pegasi can change forms. How do you think we can hold our all against demons without claws or sharp…er…teeth? And in this form,” his voice changed from teenage heartthrob to that of a sassy black woman’s, “I’d like to be called Mrs. O’Leary.”

            “What. The. Fuck,” Percy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Fine. Just fine.”

            “You mean you don’t know who’s courting you?” Mrs. O’Leary tutted, “You sorry excuse for an angel.”

            “I know who it is I just don’t know how to reciprocate,” he made wild hand gestures as he searched for the word, which came out in a hiss of loathing, “ _feelings._ ”

            “Just strut your stuff, boy,” the mastiff told him, “Be confident. Wave your fancy feathers. Though they’re going to dominate your ass once you finally get to the good stuff, you can at least act like the alpha just this once.”

            “I can’t believe I’m taking courting advice from a dog,” Percy grouched, and Mrs. O’ Leary laughed, jumping off the bed and trotting over to his side.

            “I’ll come with you for moral support, how ‘bout that?”

            “Fine,” Percy grumbled, crossing his arms, “Do I have to get ready or anything?”

            “Just be yourself,” she replied smoothly. “Your ‘dearest admirer’ didn’t fall in love with some handsome hotshot, they fell in love with you.”

            “Are you saying I’m not handsome?” the messenger angel scoffed. “I,” he threw his hands into the air and stormed out of the room and started down the hall, “am an angel of the Lord! I’m more handsome than you’ll ever be!”

            “You keep telling yourself that,” Mrs. O’Leary muttered to herself and started off, her claws clicking on the luxurious marble floor as she trotted after him. “Ain’t nobody more handsome than me.”

 

\----Ω----

 

            Perseus heart was fluttering in his chest as he approached the throne room, his palms sweaty and his movements jittery. He was beyond nervousness at this point, but he still couldn’t shake the doubt in his mind that it wasn’t Michael and Annabeth that was courting him and giving him the Signal. If Mrs. O’Leary/Blackjack’s advice and knowing look was anything to go by, then he was on the right track, but he was only 99.999% sure that the Archangel was the one, and that .001% was really, really freaking him out. On one side there was the “Annabeth really likes you and you’re one hundred percent sure about that and both she and Michael kissed you and Michael was so upset when you fell” but on the other side there was the “No Archangels have ever had a mate why would you be the first it could really be anyone”. They warred inside his head like two savage dogs.

            “Confidence, son, confidence,” Mrs. O’Leary assured, having caught up to him as he stood just outside the huge arch that led to the throne room. “Strut your stuff.” There was a long pause as Percy’s mind whirled, but eventually he came to a conclusion.

            “You know what? They’re an Archangel. They’re probably busy with stuff and I don’t think they’d want me to-” As he was saying this he’d started to walk away, accepting the fact that yes, he was chickening out, but Mrs. O’Leary planted herself in front of him, baring her teeth threateningly.

            “Don’t go walking away from true love on me, young man,” she warned, “Stop being an idiot and _go_.” There didn’t seem to be any way out of this; Mrs. O’Leary was scary and if he made a break for it she could just turn into Blackjack again and catch him without breaking a sweat. Swallowing hard and taking deep breaths to calm himself, he stepped into the throne room, Mrs. O’Leary trailing behind him like a shadow. Annabeth looked up from her clipboard with clear intentions of returning her gaze to it once more, but when she saw Mrs. O’Leary a soft smile was brought to her face.

            “Zoe, Chiron, you are dismissed,” she told her advisor and her maid, and the two of them began to downright _giggle_ as they passed by Perseus. A lot of people were giggling today, and his grit his teeth when he figured out why.

            “Hello, Percy, what can I do for you?” she asked, lounging back on her throne. She looked beautiful. Her skin was tan and healthy, her eyes Michael’s startling blue, and her honey blonde hair tumbled over one shoulder like a waterfall, matching the glimmering of her wings. She was wearing Michael’s armor quite well, and it gave her a deadly grace and beauty, like that of a lioness. He realized he was gawking and quickly shook his head clear, putting what little plan he had into motion. He spread his wings up and out, and his face flushed red as he gave a clear sign of flirtation. Annabeth raised her eyebrows, her expression unreadable, which was all the more nerve-wracking.

            Then she smiled.

            “Finally,” she breathed softly, and her wings spread too.  She rose from her seat and allowed her wings, which were much larger, to envelop Percy and cage him in her feathers. “We didn’t want to rush this in case you were a little…iffy about mates after Lucifer.” Percy shivered but nodded in understanding, his green eyes locking with her blue ones. He was not at all surprised to see affection and maybe even love in those eyes, and he remembered the Archangel telling him offhandedly that it meant that the other person was looking through their eyes; if Annabeth had blue eyes, Michael was watching, and if Michael had grey eyes, Annabeth was watching. “But we wanted to court you first. Like normal couples do.” Percy chuckled at this, because they were far from a normal couple, and that was a fact. “Don’t treat us differently just because I…we’re…an Archangel. We’re capable of love and we choose you.” Percy didn’t reply, instead opting to kiss her. Her lips were soft and warm, and she buried her fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging and demanding. Blackjack hadn’t been kidding about his thing on domination.

            “Aww…”

            “DIDN’T I DISMISS YOU TWO?!"

 

 


	21. Timestamp: The Ceremonies

 

_Chapter Soundtrack: Tear In My Heart by 21 Piolets_

 

\----Ω----

 

**The Daily Disciple**

_Machen, Thursday, July 16, 13.75 Billion Years since the Beginning of Time_

 

**ARCHANGEL MICHAEL/ANNABETH AND PERSEUS TO BE WED IN TWO WEEKS!**

            Love is in the air in Heaven as we prepare for the _first ever_ union between an Archangel and another being. The entire month of July has been dedicated to preparing for the ceremony, and with the two already boasting prominent mating marks (see picture below), the lovely pair seems to be going strong! It’s the biggest talk of the millennia, and people are already adorning their homes with streamers and ribbons to prepare for the gigantic parade scheduled to occur on the big day! The plans are huge, and with the Maid of Honor, Hazel, and the Best Man, the one and only Archangel Gabriel, mostly in charge of the proceedings (Michael, Annabeth, and Percy didn’t dare argue with them), it is sure to be a grand event! Angels are streaming in from all of the seven Heavens in order to oversee and experience this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and it has even been decreed that every worker shall be able to take the day off in order to travel to Machen, where Michael’s palace resides.

            Men and women, young and old, are all raring to witness the parade and perhaps manage to squeeze into the ceremony, which is being held in the cathedral inside Michael’s palace. This, however is just the beginning! The couple will be wed with Michael in charge of the vessel, however to make sure that the lovely Annabeth didn’t miss out, they are holding another wedding on Earth reserved for only close friends, and at that one Annabeth will, indeed, be in charge. It will also be held in the mortal style rather than the angelic, which is rather bizarre but also endearing, since it means they are celebrating both of their cultures.

            Hotels are overflowing with people, all booked up for this single day, and many construction angels actually had to widen Main Street by a couple of thousand feet just to accommodate the sheer amount of angels that are flowing in. Performers, musicians, and everything else under the sun are scrambling to sign up for the parade, and it will break thousands upon thousands of records, including but not limited to the largest group of assembled musicians and the largest parade in the entirety of the universe!

            Make sure you’re ready for the special day!

 

\----Ω----

 

            This was it. Nico was disappointed that he hadn’t been chosen as the Best Man for this particular wedding, but A) Percy had made him the Best Man for the human wedding and B) Only full-fledged angels were allowed to assume those positions. He was, however, in the Bridal Party, as were Calypso, Frank, and Piper (and of course Hazel), though the humans were only allowed to attend as honored guests. This was clearly an angels-only event. The stress, however, was real.

            “WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?!” Gabriel yelled as he ran around the huge penthouse they’d rented to change in. “WHERE’S MY FUCKING SUIT?!” The bridesmaids were in the penthouse next door, and Nico didn’t think they were nearly as disorganized as they, the groomsmen, were. Michael and Percy were in separate rooms in separate hotels as to make sure that they didn’t see each other too early, and Nico was glad because Michael would totally rip them a new one if he saw that it was only ten minutes until the parade and half of the guys were still in their underwear. Everyone was scrambling to get dressed, and it was complete and total chaos incarnated into an event.

            “GET YOUR FUCKING SUITS ON!” Uriel bellowed, still in his boxers, and Nico found it quite overwhelming to be in the same room as four out of five of the Archangels and to actually be changing in front of them. He felt a sort of brotherly bond, since all of them were freaking the fuck out over their tight time frame. He’d had his suit on the fastest, considering he didn’t have any wings to worry about, and was now helping other angels into their suits and tying their sea green ties if they didn’t know how to. The room was a blur of light grey fabric and feathers of all different colors, and more than once Nico had been smacked around by a flailing, feathery appendage.

            “Holy shit, Hazel’s going to be pissed,” Frank squeaked as he frantically fumbled with his tie, his rust-colored wings quivering in his excitement and anxiety.        

            “Flower, flower, flower, flower,” Raphael murmured to himself as he pinned on their boutonnieres in rapid succession, which were roses whose petals were the same color as their ties. It was all incredible planning on Gabriel and Hazel’s part, and Nico had no idea how they and they’d even thought of planning those things. He surely would’ve forgotten.

            “EVERYONE STAY FUCKING CALM,” Gabriel screeched despite the fact that he was probably the least calm out of all of them, and his words only made their group of six scramble even faster. Uriel conked Nico on the head with a blood-red wing when rifling through his duffle to try and find a matching pair of socks, and Frank and Azrael collided trying to look for mirrors to fix up their hair.

            “SHIT WE’RE LATE!” Raphael shrilled, and everyone crowded through the door and dashed down the hall as fast as their legs could allow. They’d forsaken the elevator and simply jumped out the nearest window, their wings fanning out to make sure they didn’t splatter on the pavement, and Nico clung to Frank will all of his might as the angel of nature descended. Nico couldn’t help but feel awed at the magnificent colors of the Archangels’ wings. From the bright crimson of Uriel’s wings to the dark green, almost black of Azrael’s. Gabriel had the biggest wingspan of all time, the huge, golden appendages spanning at least fifty feet from tip to tip, and Nico couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, considering the fact that he had no wings while Gabriel had wings that were too big.

            The bridesmaids were waiting, their soft, silken dresses the same color as the groomsmen’s ties, and they didn’t look the least bit happy as they touched down. There was no time for argument, though, because the carriages were lined up already and everyone had to find their partner. Hazel took Gabriel’s arm, much to Frank’s disappointment, and went to the carriage in the front of the line, though the rusty-winged angel _did_ have Calypso as a partner. They went their separate ways with pats on the back and murmurs of “good luck” as Nico joined Piper in their carriage; each pair had their own open-topped, gold-embellished coach pulled by a team of two pegasi. The carriages themselves couldn’t fly, but Nico feared that the horses would spook and take off, and with their tremendous strength they could no doubt lift them a couple of hundred feet into the sky. The street was jam-packed with huge floats and acrobats, and Nico’s mouth dropped open as a daredevil placed his head into the open mouth of a drakon and didn’t get his skull crushed by its huge jaws.

            “LET’S GET THIS FUCKING SHOW ON THE ROAD!” Gabriel screeched and sounded his horn, and all at once the carriages lurched forwards as the drivers whipped up the pegasi, who whinnied and bucked in their excitement, the bells that adorned their bridles ringing melodiously. Excited chatter clogged the air with raucous babble, but it was the good kind, and Nico felt like he was walking on air as the carriages took off, the performers trailing behind. Almost immediately as the color guard and the flag bearers rounded the corner, music exploded from every single building, and it was just the right volume to make Nico’s heart soar in his chest. He caught a glimpse of the bearer of God’s flag, who was riding Hazel’s pegasus, Arion, and the bearer of Poseidon’s flag, who was riding Blackjack/Mrs. O’Leary, Percy’s mastiff-pegasus hybrid. They were followed by bearers of all the flags from the seven Heavens, the flags of notable officials such as Malakai and the Archangels, and flags representing every single country on Earth. The most enthusiastic seemed to be Paolo, an angel of nature who was animatedly waving Brazil’s flag. The entire mounted procession looked like a rainbow of all different colors (of course, the LGBT+ flags added to that, all of which were represented), and never before had Nico’s breath been stolen from him in such a manner.

            “It’s so beautiful,” Calypso whispered faintly, blinking furiously in a vain attempt to preserve her makeup. “For many centuries I thought I’d never see Heaven again and now…”

            “Trust me, I get it,” Nico mumbled, crying incredibly masculine and totally non-pathetic man tears. The pegasi trotted along, the ground smooth beneath the wheels and Calypso and Nico smiled and waved at the hordes of people crowding the streets and waving colorful flags and banners from the windows of the buildings lining the streets.

            “Ave! Ave Sancti Michaelis! Ave Perseus nuntius!” they cried, many of them brought to tears and weeping into handkerchiefs. “Ave! Ave! Ave!” Nico nearly joined them in their tearful cheering, but was content to gaze around in wonder as angels tossed confetti and streamers and glitter from the windows, showering them in a hail of rainbow colors, and Nico had never felt any happier in his life. If he looked behind him, all he could see was an endless stream of performers and floats, but all the way in the back he knew there were two huge carriages, each pulled by six pegasi each, in which Percy and Michael resided. They were allowed to wave out of the side they were closest to, however the windows that would’ve allowed them to see across and into the other carriage had been blacked out.

            Elvis’s “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” blared, and Nico furiously wiped away his tears as everyone joined in.

 

_Wise men say…_

            Though it was the middle of the day, fireworks exploded off to the east, the sky alight with colors that were surprisingly vibrant for the afternoon and no doubt developed by angels.

 

_Only fools rush in…_

            Calypso clung to him as they watched adults hefting their fledglings onto their shoulders, most who probably didn’t know what was going on, and yet they flashed their gap-filled smiles and waved their flags and streamers. “Ave Sancti Michaelis! Ave Perseus nutius!”

 

_But I can’t help…_

            Nico looked to the crowd, some magical force pulling his attention to the area, and saw Will and the other humans clustered by the guard rail, each decked out in suits and dresses and brandishing their own wedding memorabilia. Will’s face lit up and he waved and Nico wildly with one hand while holding a small flag with the other. Nico’s heart reached for the stars as he shot to his feet and waved back, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt as he called out greetings to his friends, with Calypso cramming beside him to blow kisses at Leo, which were returned in kind by the grinning fool that was her husband.

 

_Falling in love with you…_

\----Ω----

 

            This was the day.

            A constant swarm of butterflies fluttered their wings in Percy’s stomach as he waited inside the little room between the outside and the inside of the cathedral, where brides and grooms waited to walk down the aisle. He heard the excited chatter of the people packed tightly into the pews like sardines in a can, as well as the cacophony that was the hundreds of thousands of angels clustered outside, all who were going to watch the ceremony from huge flat screen TVs that had been moved there several hours prior. Those who were at home had at least twenty broadcasting services covering it live, and the mere thought of his face being displayed to millions of angels throughout the seven Heavens was nerve-wracking, so he concentrated on studying the small stained glass windows on the door in front of him that depicted crosses and the like. They would’ve done it in the mosque or the temple that also resided in the palace, but Michael liked the layout of the church better, so they’d chosen that.

            The room they were in was paneled with wood, and there was pale brown linoleum beneath their feet. The cathedral itself was huge, almost an exact replica of the Milan Cathedral, and it was so gorgeous that he’d almost fainted out of vertigo during the rehearsal. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen again. The whole place smelled of myrrh and flowers (kudos to the many bouquets around them), and it only made Percy’s heart beat faster. The select newscasters who’d paid to get in on the action of before Percy came out (though they were not permitted to follow Percy down the aisle) filmed him, and the constant blinking of red lights always lingered at the corner of his vision. Though he would’ve liked to have the illusion that this wedding was private, Percy didn’t really mind since he was going to have another wedding with Annabeth in a week’s time. It didn’t, however, mean that he was any less excited for this one. The messenger angel fiddled with his clothing for the thousandth time and grinned to himself, his wings fluttering in his motley of anxiety and excitement.

             “Just to let you know before we go out,” Poseidon murmured, breaking the hush that had settled over the church. The priest, who just so happened to be the Metatron, must’ve asked for silence. Percy hadn’t noticed. His father turned and grasped his shoulders, his eyes wet. “That I am so…” he choked, wiping at his face a bit, “so proud of you. I’m glad to have you as my son.”

            “Thanks, dad,” Percy whispered, willing the tears away. He was so happy. So very, very happy. The beginning notes of Mendelssohn's Wedding March began and the two of them hooked arms, hearts in their throats as the two guards waited for their cue to open the doors. A chord was struck and it all began. A red carpet extended towards the altar, and Percy felt the weight of all eyes on him as he and his father began their walk down the aisle. He imagined that he must’ve been a sight:

            He was wearing his armor, his silver breastplate shining and his blue sash with all of his honors a dark contrast against it, and a cape of the same color dragged behind him like a wedding train, emblazoned with golden patters and symbols of good luck and happiness. He was, indeed, wearing a tunic that only came down to his knees, with no pants beneath it, and it must’ve looked like he was wearing a skirt, though all of the intricate interlocking pieces of his belt separated it and gave it some shape. He was wearing sandals as well, and in his sheath was Riptide, his trusty sword that had serviced him through thick and thin. Sure, many people got married in their military uniforms, though this one was less conventional, however the traditions of angelic weddings were plain.

            Angels were all about hidden meaning, and Percy, Michael, and their wedding planners all knew that people would be scrutinizing every last detail with a critical eye, so they were carful that everything was exactly right. Percy was wearing a halo of holly and ivy, which represented domestic happiness and fidelity, and his blue sash and cape represented faith, the gold embroidery representing wealth in physical money and wealth in happiness and contentment. The silver of his breastplate represented feminine energy (the traditionalists still insisted that the one walking down the aisle, whether male or female, should be wearing silver), but on top of that it spoke of level-headedness and a shoulder to lean on in times of need. On his hands and arms, were tattoos that looked like henna (which had taken hours to complete the day before), but in reality they were all symbols, proclaiming Percy to be Michael’s and vice versa, as well as assuring undying love. The best part, though, were the two webs of pearls on strings that had been draped over Percy’s wings. They represented purity, as well as the moon, which was how far and back each of the lovers should adore one another. The humans must’ve been completely oblivious, and Percy smiled softly to himself as he thought of all the things they were missing out on

            Then he looked up to see Michael. He looked drop-dead gorgeous. He was standing by the altar in his armor, with his sash (which held marginally more gleaming medals and awards than Percy’s did) and cape. He, however, was much flashier. His cape was red for passion, his golden armor a symbol of wisdom, wealth, and higher ideals, and though he was wearing a crown of holly and ivy like Percy was, the berries were white. That wasn’t for any deep meaning, however; it was because Michael was 100% pure extra virgin. Well, in the eyes of the public he was. His wings were draped with webs of garnet the glittered and sparkled, representing constancy and loyalty; a promise to defend Percy’s honor if needed. Percy’s heart fluttered against his ribcage as he saw the henna tattoos adorning his bulging biceps, proclaiming to all that he was Percy’s and Percy’s alone.

            The most incredible thing, though, was the look on Michael’s face. His mouth was slightly open, his grey eyes shining like the lingering clouds after a storm, and he was looking at Percy like the messenger was his whole world.

            He was about halfway down the aisle now, and as he looked around he saw his mom smiling and waving at her through her tears, and Will using a constant stream of tissues as he and everyone else cried their eyes out. Leo seemed to be trying to hold it in but was failing miserably. The cameras filmed, yes, and there were many people that Percy didn’t know, but in that instant he felt surrounded by family. Cherished and supported. He bid his father farewell when the pews ended, and for a moment his father clung to him, seeming unsure to let his son go on and grow up, but he relented and took his seat beside his mother.

            The bridal party was fanned out across the altar, the groomsmen to the right and the bridesmaids to the left, and they were all grinning like madmen. Percy had never actually seen all of the Archangels in one place, and he marveled at them for a moment before he scaled the steps and joined Michael in front of the altar. The Archangel’s scent was alive with _lovinghappymate_ , and Percy allowed himself to wallow and get drunk on the smell of it. Hazel immediately hustled forwards to adjust his cape so that the long and luxurious fabric was fanned around and in front of him, the glittering golden symbols out for all to see. The Metatron smiled softly at the both of them, decked in luxurious silks for the occasion, and took his book in hand, and Percy’s hands began to shake slightly as the organist pulled the wedding march to a close. This was it. This is what it was all about,

            The Metatron adjusted his microphone and declared in a booming voice, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this these two angels in holy Matrimony. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any person can show just reason, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold their peace.” Nobody spoke up, and Percy’s heart beat faster, the light inside of him blazing like an inferno. The Metatron’s smile brightened, “Splendid. Now, may the Best Man and the Maid of Honor please step forwards.”

            Hazel and Gabriel broke away from the bridal party to stand between the couple and the altar, both of their eyes slightly red but their faces plastered with ear-to-ear grins. The Metatron continued, “Hazel, messenger angel and former deliverer of Michael’s scrolls, please take the mortar and pestle from the altar.” The golden-eyed angel did so, holding the blessed marble items with great care. “Gabriel, take the primrose stem, present it to this lovely couple, and repeat after me: This primrose stem,”

            “This primrose stem,” Gabriel echoed, turning to Michael and Percy with the single stem of a primrose, all of the leaves and petals stripped.

            “Represents your eternal love.”

            “Represents your eternal love.”

            “It will prevail through thick and thin.”

            “It will prevail through thick and thin.”

            “Now, place the primrose into the mortar. Hazel, please thoroughly grind it,” the Metatron ordered, and the two angels did so, with Hazel using the pestle to smash the stem to a pulp, though she somehow managed to do it quietly and neatly. “Now, Gabriel, take the aloe, present it to the couple, and repeat after me once more: This aloe,”

            “This aloe,” Gabriel parroted.

            “Is a blessing to keep you and your family.”

            “Is a blessing to keep you and your family.”

            “Healthy-bodied and healthy-minded.”

            “Healthy-bodied and healthy-minded.”

            “Now, give the aloe to Hazel,” the Metatron ordained. The messenger angel ground up the aloe with the primrose stem, a thick green paste beginning to form. “Gabriel, will you take the cumin seeds now and repeat after me: These seeds,”

            “These seeds.”

            “Represent your fidelity.”

            “Represent your fidelity.”

            “They will assure that you will never have eyes for another.”

            “They will assure that you will never have eyes for another.”

            “Now, give the seeds to Hazel.” The process was repeated, and the seeds gave the paste a brownish tinge. “Gabriel, pick up the myrtle petals.” Percy laughed softly to himself; though the petals did have meaning, they were simply to change the color of the paste and make it seem more appealing than the green-brown sludge that it was now, and he’d been specifically told this information by the Metatron himself. “Present them to the couple and repeat after me: These petals.”

            “These petals.”

            “Are the emblem of marriage and true love.”

            “Are the emblem of marriage and true love.”

            “Please utilize their power.”

            “Please utilize their power.”

            “To keep the spark alive.”

            “To keep the spark alive.”

            “Because you two are going to be stuck with each other for a long, long time,” the Metatron finished with a wicked smirk.

            Gabriel, slightly dazed, continued, “Because you two- hey, wait!” The entire church burst into laughter, a roar so loud (since it also included all of those assembled outside and watching from their televisions) that Percy almost covered his ears, though thankfully the massive bought of laughter was short-lived and everyone settled down afterwards. Michael gave him a wink, which Percy returned in kind, and the rukus finally managed to die down enough for the Metatron to go on with the ceremony.

            “Now,” he declared, seeming excited. “Hazel, please place the mortar and pestle onto the altar.” Hazel did as she was told, giving an almost unnoticeable, giddy bounce. She looked beautiful in her dress, and he knew that Frank, without a doubt, was a lucky man. Percy, not to be hubris or anything, was much luckier, however, as he glanced at his smoldering Archangel boyfriend, soon to be husband. “Swipe two fingers through the paste borne of the ground plants.” Hazel did so, and Percy was glad to see that the myrtle petals had made the paste a very, very dark crimson. It was a shade darker than blood and smelled both odd and good at the same time, though Michael crinkled his nose a bit. Wuss. “You may say your blessing that you have prepared.”

            Hazel turned to Percy, her eyes shining. “Percy,” she murmured, her voice wavering, but she cleared her voice and continued in a stronger voice, “Despite the challenges you have faced, despite the fact that everything that has ever happened to you forced you in the direction of sin, you have emerged and become one of the best people I have ever known. You are good. You are kind. You are fair.” She turned to Michael, her face saying “smile” but her eyes saying “I will fucking kill you you fucking fuck if you ever fucking do anything to him you fucking hear me”. Instead of saying those things out loud, however she simply told him, “Michael, you have to earn him. Keep him.” Michael was practically radiating _nervous happy excited mate_ , and Percy tried to weave comforting things into his scent to soothe the Archangel, though he didn’t know whether it worked or not.

            “I will,” Michael murmured, though he sounded slightly freaked out about Hazel’s death stare, and Hazel gave a determined nod of approval. She turned back to Percy.

            “Perseus the messenger, I give my blessings and mark you with the gifts that these plants provide,” she announced softly, her voice nearly a whisper. Percy’s gaze locked with hers as she, with her two paste-covered fingers, drew the angelic sigil of matrimony upon Percy’s forehead.

 

Ӝ

 

            Though it was probably his imagination, Percy thought that every place the paste touched was warmer than the rest of his body. He closed his eyes to take it all in as Hazel stepped back and Gabriel took her place. The Archangel was glorious, nearly outshining his elder brother. They looked nothing alike, however; Gabriel was more soft around the edges. Though he was constantly moving, whether his wings were shifting, his foot was tapping, or his fingers were drumming, he had a beauty to him that spoke of warm, welcoming homes and kindness. He boasted the signature Archangel blondness, but his hair was more like a very, very light shade of brown, unlike Michael’s golden locks. The corners of his mouth quirked as he regarded Michael.

            “Now, Gabriel,” the Metatron decreed, “Swipe your fingers through the pulp like Hazel had done and say the blessing you have prepared.”

            “Listen here, you annoying older brother,” Gabriel began as he covered his fingers in the reddish paste, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the guests. “You scored big.” He clapped Michael on the shoulder with the hand that didn’t have the paste on it. Percy squirmed a little where he stood, because no matter how funny it was to watch Michael get the death stare from Hazel, it was beyond unnerving to be on the receiving end of one, especially one from Archangel Gabriel. “You deserve him, Percy, make sure it stays that way.” Percy could only swallow hard and nod. Gabriel inclined his head and turned to Michael. “Brother of mine, you basically raised me. Hell, you were like a second dad,” he got a bit choked up, but soldiered on, “You gave me food, reprimanded me, and shaped me into who I am today, and for that I’m thankful. We’ve been through Hell and back together, and that’s why I sincerely hope this lasts. Because Percy makes you happy, and if that’s the case then I want him to stick around.” Gabriel cast a sidelong glance to Percy, his expression soft.

            “So, without further ado, Michael the Archangel, Guardian of Heaven, humanity, and the leader of the angelic host, blah, blah, blah if I listed all your titles we’d all be dead by the time I finished,” everyone laughed, “I give my blessings and mark you with the gifts that these plants provide.” He mimicked Hazel and drew the angelic symbol of matrimony onto his forehead. Everyone applauded, and Percy looked at Michael, awed. He was marrying an Archangel. Right now. They were on the altar and mostly through the ceremony. They both had angelic matrimony symbols on their foreheads. He realized that his love for Michael was borderline worship, and the Archangel seemed to be realizing it as well. He seemed shell-shocked, and his expression made Percy smile.

            “Excellent. You two may rejoin the bridal party,” the Metatron replied. Hazel nearly tripped and fell on her speedy retreat back to Piper, Calypso, and Zoë, who already had a set of tissues on hand. She snatched them away and began dabbing her eyes, trying not to mess up her makeup too much. Nico, Frank, and the Archangels greeted him with brotherly hugs, but their eyes were all red, including Nico’s, though the fallen angel would continue to deny it for the rest of his days. “Perseus and Michael, may you two please take each other’s hands.” Percy stepped forwards and almost shyly took his mate’s hands in his, and he had to resist the urge to kiss the life out of him. He loved him so much it almost hurt.

            The Metatron walked around the altar to stand beside them. In his hand he held a simple red ribbon about four feet long. “With this ribbon,” he declared, his voice echoing throughout the church. “This ribbon that is love and trust and fidelity and caring and beauty. This ribbon that is all that once was and all that will be. This ribbon that is your friends and your family and everything in between.” The Metatron took a deep breath. “With this ribbon, I bind you.” Everyone applauded, calling out and whistling as they rose from their seats in a standing ovation as the Metatron took their left hands and wrapped the ribbon around them.

_With this ribbon, I bind you._

            Percy broke down, and with their hands still clasped and bound by the ribbon, Percy grabbed the back of Michael’s head and pulled him down for a kiss. The guests went wild, cheering and crying and clapping. It was loud, but Percy didn’t care, crushing Michael’s face against his own as tears streamed down his face.

He’d been so happy. 

\----Ω----

            Percy felt like he was a balloon, floating so very high and only tethered to the ground by a string. He feared he would _actually_ start floating as he watched Annabeth walking down the aisle. Her father had been brought from the Third Heaven to guide her, and he seemed happy and awed at the same time as he regarded Percy standing by the priest, his wings fluttering giddily. This priest running the ceremony just so happened to be one who’d worked in the city that the Golden Swords had lived in for a large portion of their young lives. He went by the name of Father Rick, and Jason had claimed that he was the best guy for the job, despite the fact that many, many famous religious figures had offered to do so instead. Needless to say, Annabeth had politely declined, claiming that it would be a little awkward to have Jesus or the Apostles leading the ceremony.

            Percy was glad that mortal weddings were so much simpler, but he missed trying to pick out all of the hidden meaning; angelic weddings kept up with the times, changing and evolving if traditions became too archaic, but with mortals it had been the same for hundreds of years. The woman wore white to represent her purity/virginity, and it was uncommon now-a-days for couples to still be virgins even after dating for many years, though they still kept it up because that was the norm. Percy and Annabeth had still indulged in wearing the nets of jewels over their wings, with Percy’s pearls being a large contrast to Annabeth’s garnets, and he didn’t think that this week could get any better as Annabeth was given a kiss on the cheek by her father and left to walk up to Father Rick.

            They’d forsaken a church and simply had held their proceedings in the long-lost Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Yes, they were still in Heaven, but it was the only way their wedding could be completely and totally private; there were very few places on Earth where their weddings couldn’t be observed by others, and Annabeth had been A-OK settling for the Hanging Gardens when the Garden of Eden proved to be too crowded with plant life to properly host a wedding. Fold-up chairs were set up in rows, and all of the humans and fallen angels were in the bridal party, with Reyna and Nico as the Maid of Honor and the Best Man. Needless to say, the others had been quite wounded, but they were content with sitting in the front “pews” in their tuxes and dresses. Percy’s parents had come, too, and Annabeth had thanked them for doing so even though they could’ve just attended the one between Percy and Michael and been done with it. Hazel and Frank had been invited as well, and they seemed simultaneously bewildered and intrigued at the mortal customs.

            Father Rick went through the proceedings with great passion, and Percy agreed that they couldn’t’ve chosen a better man to do it (no offense, Jesus and the Apostles). His attention, however, always slid to Annabeth. She was stunning, her crystal blue eyes and honey blonde hair standing out against her glittering white ball gown, which was adorned with beading (the “beads” being real diamonds) and other incredible embellishments. She was holding a bouquet of red roses to match the garnets on her glittering white-gold wings, and he didn’t think he could ever see someone as beautiful as she was. Her hair was done up in plaits, a few stray strands having fallen loose, and he wanted to just reach over and tuck them behind her ear. He felt that that was against the human custom, though, and refrained. He spent most of the pastor’s speaking in a daze, torn between disregarding the traditions and kissing Annabeth until she couldn’t breathe and fainting like a damsel in distress. He settled for rubbing his wings against Annabeth’s, his gaze still trained on Father Rick while his feathers gently caressed hers.

            “Now, Annabeth and Perseus, by coming here today, you have reached a crossroads in your lives,” Father Rick, boomed, jolting Percy back into reality as his heart flew in his chest, readying himself for the vows. You’re turning away from your yesterdays and looking ahead to your tomorrows. Your past is a distant memory. Your future a waiting adventure. It is a new dawn, a new commitment, a new life. The bonds you are forging today will change your lives forever.” Percy exchanged a giddy glance with Annabeth, a huge smile breaking out across his features, one that she mirrored back at him.

            “Do you, Perseus, promise to take Annabeth to be your wife? To comfort her and care for her; to make her laugh, and help her when she cries? To offer your best counsel and give your sincerest support with all the love you have to give?” Father Rick inquired, leveling his glacier-blue gaze upon Percy. The angel knew he only had to say two words, but hell was he nervous about them anyway.

            “I do,” he murmured. Somewhere from the bridal party he heard someone sniffling, and he was willing to bet all of the money earned from the bridal shower that it was Nico.

            “Is it your choice that Annabeth be the one with whom you wish to spend your life?” Father Rick questioned, and with a bit more confidence Percy replied:

            “It is.” Annabeth seemed near-ready to cry, but unwilling considering her eyeliner was forty dollars and her foundation nearly fifty, and he gave her wing a reassuring brush with his own. Father Rick smiled softly at Percy and turned to Annabeth, but not before adjusting his half-moon glasses slightly to better read off the page.

            “Do you, Annabeth, promise to take Perseus to be your husband? To comfort him and care for him; to make him laugh, and help him when he cries? To offer your best counsel and give your sincerest support with all the love you have to give?” Father Rick asked.

            “I do,” Annabeth told him firmly, so much conviction in her voice that she might as well be confirming her enlistment in the army rather than saying her vows.

            “Is it your choice that Perseus be the one with whom you wish to spend your life?” Father Rick queried, his smile growing impossibly larger and practically lighting up the entire ceremony.

            “It is,” Annabeth replied.

            “Then that settles it!” Father Rick announced, closing his book with an audible thump. “You may kiss the bride!” The small group assembled cheered and wept as Percy pulled Annabeth close to him and pressed his lips against hers, tasting her lipstick and smirking as her wings cocooned his.

            “I love you so much,” he murmured to her.

            “Honey, I already know,” she scoffed, but there was a playful spark in her eyes. “And just in case you didn’t know this, I love you too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry that the Percabeth wedding is so short, but I can only assume that everyone knows how a normal wedding works and that I didn’t have to explain everything like with an angelic wedding.


	22. Timestamp: The Fledglings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having serious writer's block and the chapter just wasn't coming out right, so I decided to turn this Timestamp into a tablet. I'm sorry if you wanted all of the details, but I'm going to leave that to your imagination.

_Chapter Soundtrack: House of Gold by 21 Pilots  
_

\----Ω----

 

_Throughout the duration of the pregnancy, Archangel Annabeth/Michael remained in Annabeth’s form. Would the baby disappear altogether if they switched back and forth? Would it have health problems? They didn’t want to take the risk, so throughout those nine months the Archangel remained in Annabeth’s form, and one could tell who was in control by the color of her eyes; blue for Michael, grey for Annabeth. Speaking of Michael, he and Percy constantly bickered over what their child was going to call them. I quote Percy from a few months before the child’s birth, “Michael has to fucking suck it up and deal with ‘Papa’ because I’m totally calling dibs on ‘Daddy’.” It was comical to say the least._

_On July 9 th, 2017, Annabeth gave birth to a perfectly healthy, beautiful baby boy who she, Percy, and Michael named Iapetus, Pete for short. He is a new type of angel, a mix between an Archangel and another, and has traits from both types, and the government has yet to decide what to call it. Pete’s uncles fawned over him, and he had to be the most spoiled child in the history of the universe, though his parents were keen to make sure he didn’t dangle his title in front of his piers; they told him that being the heir to the throne (God forbid something happened to Michael and Annabeth) meant he had to take on more responsibility, rather than putting it on someone else’s shoulders just because he could. He was, by far, the most helpful (and shockingly intelligent) boy in the school, offering tutoring whenever he could and helping the teacher clean up after class. _

_Though it didn’t, doesn’t, really set him back, Iapetus was born with two gigantic black wings that flabbergasted all of the doctors; Archangel genes were incredibly dominant, and on top of the fact that Percy’s black wing genes were extremely recessive, it was surprising to find that Iapetus had inherited them. Nobody dared to insult him, and even though Iapetus was beyond capable of fending for himself, his parents were there to back him up, just in case someone tried to badmouth him._

_For some odd reason all of his friends called him “Bob” in first grade, unable to pronounce his full name or even the shortened version, and the nickname stuck like glue. Iapetus didn’t mind at all, and actually enjoys his nickname much better than his full name, which he thinks sounds, I quote, “Too much like ‘I peed us. What were my parents thinking?’” Pete could never really quite grasp the fact that sometimes he had a mother and a father and sometimes he had two fathers, but he accustomed much better than everyone had predicted._

_As millennia passed, Pete grew to become second-in command of Heaven’s armies, alongside Annabeth/Michael. He is loyal and very much liked by everyone, with a gentle, guiding hand and a very approachable attitude. The heir to the throne has an odd obsession with his tiny calico cat, who he calls “Small Bob”. Michael is very much allergic to cats and complains constantly, but he can’t deny that the feline makes his son happy and therefore makes the Archangel happy._

_Nico and Will’s children; the twins, Andromeda and Balthazar, and the older child, Tobias, grew to become incredibly successful, despite the fact that they lacked their biological parents (both of whom were nature angels, so all of their children are nature angels as well). Andromeda joined the council that helps decide whether angels should be sentenced to fall at Uriel’s hand, and is very popular for her quick wit and her ability to assess a problem from all angles and points of view. She has since helped to reduce the severity of many angels’ punishments; instead of losing their wings they have to perform community service and the like, and crowds of angels owe her their wings. Balthazar joined the huge horde of staff at Leo and Calypso’s shop, and pretty soon climbed the ranks (no influence from his closeness to Leo and Calypso at all) to become assistant CEO with his aunt and uncle. Balthazar joined the military and became very close acquaintances with Reyna, as well as notable figures like Athena and Ares._

_Hazel and Frank had a single daughter whom they named Marie, in honor of Hazel’s late mother. When she’d come of age, the messenger angel was hired by her good family friend Archangel Azrael, who was incredibly close with Marie’s grandfather, Hades. She usually resides in his palace as of now and comes back to the house for holidays, though Hazel and Frank admit that they miss her dearly._

_Jason, Piper, Leo, and Calypso never had any children, but they were all more than willing to babysit when their friends needed a day off._

_The fledglings themselves can provide more information about their upbringing, but requested that the locations of their homes to be censored, with the exception of Marie, of course._

_-The Heroes’ Fledglings Scroll-_

_-Scribed by the Metatron -_


	23. Timestamp: Very Weird Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important Notice: PLEASE DON’T REPORT ME FOR WRITING IN SCRIPT FORM THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A FUNNY AND ENTERTAINING THING FOR ALL OF YOU

 

_Chapter Soundtrack: My Name is Satan by Stephen Lynch_

\----Ω----

 

Brendon Urie: Wow i actually made it 2 Heaven

Brendon Urie: Im surprised

Brendon Urie: Maybe ill settle down a bit before i do any more singing

Archangel Michael: ( ͡ ° ͜  ʖ ͡ ° )

 

*blep*

 

God: My eldest is fuckin weird

Michael: …

God: I mean, Gabe n’ Raph n’ Uriel n’ Azrael turned out ok

God: Hell, even Luci was cool until he rebelled

God: but this kid…

Michael: …

Michael: …

Michael: wow ok ro0d

 

*blep*

 

Percy: okie dokie the mating season seems to be over

Percy: *starts trying to do normal things again*

Michael/Annabeth: BITCH YOU THOUGHT

 

*blep*

 

Lucifer: Knock knock

Person: Whos there

Lucifer: A mirror

Lucifer: I m lonely

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Michael and Annabeth are the only mate(s) I’ve ever had

Lucifer: WHAT THE FUCK I LOOK LIKE

 

*blep*

 

Jason: *singing* My dad

Jason: Said he was going our 4 some ice cream

Jason: But that was ten years ago

Percy: Bruh

 

*blep*

 

Will: Who r u

Nico: DON’T FEAR I AM UR GUARDIAN **ANGLE**

Will: ???

Nico: fuCKING shIT

 

*blep*

 

Octavian: U suck

Piper: And u swallow

*puts on shades as boss ass bitch plays in the background*

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: we’re having a kid so yah

Percy: And his name is-

Every mortal: JOHN CENA *BUM BUM BUM BUM*

Annabeth and Percy:  ¿¿¿¿what the fuck even????

 

*blep*

 

*listening to Emperor’s New Clothes*

Michael: Oh no

Percy: wat is it

Michael: its coming

Percy: w h a t

Michael: I’m having a Panic! attack

Percy: …

Percy: I’m just going to go jump off this cliff

 

*blep*

 

Leo: Did it hurt when u fell from heaven?

Calypso: yep

 

*blep*

 

Will: Love u cutie pie

Nico: …

Rachel: …

Rachel: that was so lame

Will: Sorry ill think of a better one then

Will: Ur my angel dust

Will: No wait that’s a drug

Nico: RACHEL KILL ME NOW JUST END IT PLEASE

 

*blep*

 

Gabriel: Ur my brother and I love u but u are one great big bag of dicks

Lucifer: w h a t   t h e   a c t u a l   f u c k

 

*blep*

 

*angels falling from Heaven*

Reyna: *cupping hands over her mouth* DO A FLIP

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Dad, I just had sex!

Poseidon: That’s great, come here and sit down so we can talk about it!

Percy: I cant my ass hurts

Poseidon: I fuckin knEW IT

Poseidon: FUCKIN PAY UP SALLY

Sally: *grumbling* *hands Poseidon 20$*

Percy: Thanks for understa- wait wtf rude

 

*blep*

 

*Nico and Will’s kids r now teenagers and they wanna sleep in*

*6 am*

Nico: *banging pots together* I AINT GET NO SLEEP CAUSE-A Y’ALL

Y’ALL NOT GON GET NO SLEEP CAUSE-A ME

Will: *also trying to sleep in* can you just fUCKING SHUT UP

 

*blep*

 

*Frank, Hazel, Michael, Percy, & Zoë all watching Supernatural*

 

Frank: Castiels a fuckin pussy like u don’t just leave ur handprint u MARK HIS WHOLE DAMN BODY U LITTLE DIPSHIT

Hazel: *fanning herself* the righteous man is HAWT

Michael: y am I such a dick

Michael: Percy am I a dick in real life

Michael: Percy plz answer

Michael: Percy am I as dickish as this guy

Percy: No

Percy: …

Percy: Ur worse

Michael: damn

Zoë: You’re all a buncha dumbasses

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Hey babe what’s your sine can I get your frequency

Percy: I am going to kill myself

 

*blep*

 

Piper: What would u do for a Klondike bar

Jason: U

Piper: ok u got me there

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: Im not that bossy

Leo: *looks into the camera like he’s on the Office*

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Fun fact my hips are actually compulsive liars

 

*blep*

 

Leo: Hey, babe, are u from Tennessee cause ur the only ten _I_ see

Calypso: Why r u this way

 

*blep*

 

*when they wake up*

Percy: words cannot describe how beautiful you look

Annabeth: Aww

Percy: But numbers can 0/10

Annabeth: LISTEN HERE U LITTLE SHIT

 

*blep*

 

Leo: should I get a tumblr

Calypso: Leo no

Hazel and Frank: Leo no

Jason and Piper: Leo no

Nico and Will: Leo no

Percy and Annabeth/Michael: Leo no

Rachel and her fallen angels: Leo no

Heaven: Leo no

Obama: Leo no

Gandhi: Leo no

Abraham Lincoln: Leo no

Jesus: Leo no

Lucifer: Leo no

Leo: …

Leo: …

Leo: Leo _yes_

*blep*

 

Jason: Wow the stars are pretty tonight

Piper: Yeah they sure are

Jason: Do u know who else is pretty?

Piper: *blushing* Who?

Jason: Percy

Jason: But in a totally bro way

Jason: no homo

Piper: I’m jumping into Tartarus

 

*blep*

 

Octavian: so im a demon now

Lucifer: yep, and from now on I want you to call me Senpai

Octavian: wtf

 

*blep*

 

*Percy at the window of Jason’s room in chapter two*

Percy: Hey u gotta moment to talk about my half-brother Jesus Christ

Jason: *face palms so hard his hand goes through his skull*

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Hey it’s a little muggy outside

Annabeth: Percy I swear if I walk out to see all of our coffee mugs out on the stoop I will skin you

Percy: *laughs nervously whilst drinking from a bowl of coffee*

 

*blep*

 

Nico: *singing* Is it too late now to play Sorry?

Will: Okay, enough, Nico, just go the fuck to sleep please

 

*blep*

 

Headcannon where God is a very overprotective father

 

*Michael and Percy snuggling on the couch*

*Michael turns around to see God standing behind them*

God: Y’all fucking?

 

*blep*

 

*Archangel Michael’s royal carriage or some shit gets stuck in a pothole*

Percy: *singing tøp under breath* cursing my government, for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement

Michael: Fuckin salty-ass ho

 

*blep*

 

Piper: My favorite animal’s the kitty cat what about you, Annabeth?

Annabeth: Mine’s the puppy dog, what about you, Octavian?

Octavian: SATAN

Percy: STOP IT OCTAVIAN THAT’S NOT AN ANIMAL

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: This mirror is covered in shit

Reyna: It won’t go away

Reyna: Oh wait, that’s me

 

*blep*

 

Percy: *excited* Piper, do you have spirit?!

Piper: Yeah, Perce!

Percy: Jason, do _you_ have spirit?!

Jason: I have spirit _s_

Percy: ???

Jason: *screeches*

 

*blep*

 

Nico: Babe, I’m sorry

Will: You know what, me too

Nico: You were wrong, I was wrong-

Will: No I wasn't

Nico: BITCH YES YOU WERE

Will: SHUT YOUR FINE ASS UP U FUCKER

 

*blep*

 

Leo: *hits blunt* so what happens if I get scared half to death twice

Percy and Jason: bruh

*Nico and Frank look into the camera like it’s the Office while the X-Files music plays*

 

*blep*

 

Percy: I can’t stand you

Jason: U wanna fight

Jason: I will literally destroy you

Percy: Is that a threat or a promise

Jason: *whispering* I promise

 

*blep*

 

Calypso: I’m not pushy

Leo: Why the fuck u lyin…y u always lyin hmmmmomygod stop fuckin lyin

 

*blep*

 

Michael: *whispering* I see dead people

Percy: Mike, we’re at a funeral

Michael: I know that’s why it’s funny

Michael and Percy: hehehheehehehehhehehehehehe

Annabeth: kms

 

*blep*

 

Nico: *in denial* Psch I totally dig chicks

Will: *slowly turns up radio*

Radio: *in the tune of Bad Day* ‘Cause you know that you’re gay, you wanna suck cock, you say that you’re straight but you know that you’re not

 

*blep*

 

*The Golden Swords visiting Michael’s palace*

Reyna: I really need to watch the next doctor who episode

Reyna: But everyone here’s a fucking psycho

Reyna: Maybe just a little

Reyna: *turns on episode with volume on low*

*literally two seconds after the theme starts playing the entire palace including staff suddenly appears in Reyna’s room*

Everyone: *manically* DOWEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

*blep*

 

Rachel: I wanna go shopping but in the middle of the night with nobody around and I can take whatever I want

Piper: That’s called theft

Rachel: So be it

 

*blep*

 

*In Tartarus*

Lucifer: Ya know what I’m jus gonna kill everyone here

Lilith and Asmodeus: Wh-what?! Why would you do that?!

Lucifer: Percy was like 80% of my impulse control

 

*blep*

 

*world is burning*

God: …

Michael: Dad all I’m saying is that this is the exact reason I shouldn’t be left unsupervised

 

*blep*

 

Michael: I put the “laughter” in manslaughter

Annabeth: I put the “cute” in execute

Percy: I put the “fun” in funeral

Jason: I put the “hot” in psychotic

Leo: I put the “ay” in slaying

Piper: I put the “sass” in assassination

Reyna: I put the “oo” in blood

Will: …

Will: …

Will: I put the D in di angelo

Nico: I SWEAR TO GOD YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

 

*blep*

 

Leo: did I ever tell you about my gay Jesus theory

Annabeth: I really, really don’t want to hear it

Leo: …

Leo: so here’s the thing-

Annabeth: fUCK

 

*blep*

 

Lilith: I would just like to go ahead and accept my slut of the year award. It’s like 10 times better than an Oscar

 

*blep*

 

Percy: babe come over

Jason: I cant I’m possessed by an angel

Percy: we can flirt with the criteria of substance abuse and talk about our daddy issues

Jason: …

Jason: …

Jason: Imma just stay here

 

*blep*

 

*An angel brings another angel home from a bar*

The angels: *kissing passionately*

Angel #1: You’re so beautiful

Angel #2: *licks lips*

Angel #2: *leans in*

Angel #2: tell me ur wifi password

 

*blep*

 

Grover: No offense but what the fuck am I doing

 

*blep*

 

Hazel: It’s very important that I am both cute and powerful

Hazel: And if u cross my path imma fuck u up

Frank: …

 

*blep*

 

Nico: I’m so straight I have a whole folder of attractive males on my computer titled “yuck, I would never look at this, what the fuck”

Will: *looks into the camera like the Office*

 

*blep*

 

Michael: ARE WE GONNA FUCKIN HOLD HANDS TONIGHT OR WHAT BITCH

Percy: nah son Netflix

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: Things I want: snuggles

Reyna: Things I get: struggles

Rachel: PrEaCh GuRl

 

*blep*

 

*Michael and Percy in Heaven before slang was invented (in the form of “babe come over” memes)*

 

Percy: Young consort of mine, I desire to have physical interactions with you

Michael: I have other obligations which I must attend to

Percy: I am not in the company of my legal guardians

Michael: I am now traveling in your general direction

 

*blep*

 

Frank: Do you ever stay in the shower so long you forget who you are

 

*blep*

 

Leo: It’s hard being hilarious when everyone ignores you

 

*blep*

 

Will: You’re so cute I just wanna hug you and kiss you and cuddle with you and also fuck you but hey man it’s whatever

Nico: …

Nico: wut

 

*blep*

 

Michael: *looks into mirror*

Michael: *glares* you again

*blep*

 

Octavian: If loving to cut upon stuffed animals is wrong, then I don’t want to be right

Octavian: And if being right means I have to live without cutting open stuffed animals well then idgaf about being right im a demon

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: If I don’t talk to myself then who will

Reyna: No one

Reyna: Yeah I agree 100%

 

*blep*

 

Percy: My last words will probably be either “whoops” or “shit”

Michael: Preeeeeaaaaaaaaaccchhhhh

 

*blep*

 

Leo: yes hello this is your pilot speaking and by pilot I mean I read a wikihow on flying a plane once so I guess ill just have to WING it haha just a little pilot humor okie dokie nothing to worry about folks im sure I can figure this out

Everyone: …

Everyone: fUCK

 

*blep*

 

Jason: *hits blunt* do you think fish ever get thirsty

Leo: bruuuhhhhhh

Percy: Well I certainly know who gets thirsty once in a while

Frank: IF YOU LOOK AT MICHAEL WITH A SEXY EYEBROW WIGGLE I SWEAR TO DAD I WILL END YOU

Percy: …

Percy: *looks at Michael with a sexy eyebrow wiggle*

Frank: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

 

*blep*

 

Hazel and Frank are walking in St. Petersburg Square on Christmas Eve. They feel a slight precipitation.

Frank: I think it’s raining

Hazel: No, it’s snowing

Frank: How about we ask this Communist officer here? He is always right. Officer Rudolph, is it raining or snowing?

Officer Rudolph: Definitely raining

Frank: *grinning* See? Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.

Hazel: *inhales* BOI

 

*blep*

 

Michael: If you keep eating all that candy you’re going to get-

Gabriel: don’t u dare say it u fuckin fuck I will slit ur throat in front of ur mate and then hang you upside down from the second Heaven u bitch don’t u dare

Michael: FAT

Gabriel: BOI

 

*blep*

 

Dispatcher: 911 what is your emergency

Leo: I’m hungover af and forgot 2 put water next 2 my bed last nite

Dispatcher: I got u fam sending unit over with Gatorade and weed

Leo: Cool let urself in

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: what do you mean it’s inappropriate to have Highway to Hell by AC/DC at my funeral

 

*blep*

 

Young Michael: DADDY DADDY LOOK WHAT I MADE *holds up awful drawing*

God: ohh nice drawing son…ill put it right here in the shredder where it’ll be nice and safe

Young Michael: lol okei

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Percy and I here have this kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other’s-

Percy: sentences

Annabeth: don’t interrupt me

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: Liquor before beer you’re in the clear

Reyna: Beer before liquor youll be okay don’t be a lil bitch

 

*blep*

 

Sally: My phone is dead can you call your father for me

Percy: sure

Percy: Siri call Dad

Siri: *Calling Daddy*

Percy: WAIT NO

Michael: Yo whaddup

Sally: …

Sally: …

Sally: words cannot describe how disappointed I am in u

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: The pills are huge

Percy: do u know what else is huge ( ͡ ° ͜  ʖ ͡ ° )

Annabeth: my love for Jesus Christ can I get an amen

 

*blep*

 

Leo: you just have the mind of an innocent, non-tainted child

Calypso: YOU KNOW THAT’S BULLSHIT BECAUSE YOU’RE THE REASON THAT IT’S BULLSHIT

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: I think I’m in the negatives for the quantity of fucks I’ve given today

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Is there a word that’s a mix between sad and mad

Annabeth: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Michael: smad

 

*blep*

 

Leo: I’m so tired I can see colors

Leo: wait that’s normal never mind

 

*blep*

 

Jason: *being dragged away from Percy and into the Metatron’s palace*

Jason: hey whats the wifi password

 

*blep*

 

*Whenever Percy does something stupid*

Annabeth: …

Annabeth: *inhales*

Annabeth: BOI

 

*blep*

 

*In Heaven*

Helen: Hello, my name is Helen, what’s your-

Jason: WAIT

Piper: Jason no

Jason: THE HELEN

Piper: Jason please stahp

Jason: HELEN WITH THE FRUIT BASKETS

Piper: Jason please

Jason: YOU CAN SUCK IT, HELEN

 

*blep*

 

Nico: Shut up Will nobody likes u

Will: u do

Nico: shit

 

*blep*

 

*world explodes*

Michael: *removes one earbud* wat

Percy: I’m mated to a fucking retard

 

*blep*

 

Interviewer: What hashtag would you give each other

Frank: Hazel is #whatsahashtag

Hazel: well he’s not wrong

 

*blep*

 

Leo: Idk how to flirt imma just stare at u until u marry me

Calypso: …

 

*blep*

 

Dispatcher: 911 what is ur emergency

Reyna: they gave me 9 chicken mcnuggets instead of 10

Dispatcher: oh my gOD

 

*blep*

 

*Will walks by*

Brain: fuck him

Nico: why

Brain: u gotta

 

*blep*

 

Poseidon: I’m so glad I let you have your mate over. I didn’t hear one sound from your room!

Percy: You know I don’t talk when my mouth is full, dad

Poseidon: jESUS H godlOVING cHRIST

 

*blep*

 

 

Jason: making my way downtown

Piper: WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING

Jason: walking fast

Piper: GET BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT

Jason: walking faster

Piper: IT’S OUR ANNIVERSARY

Jason: jogging much faster

Piper: YOU FUCKING FUCK DID YOU FORGET

Jason: moving at an incREDIBLY FAST SPEED

 

*blep*

 

*Percy and Michael spooned in bed*

Percy: Hey

Percy: This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that ur dad is stalking us

Percy: But if you’ve ever wondered if he likes being called “The Big G”

Percy: It’s a no

Michael: WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

Percy: IM SORRY IM TRYING

*Michael’s phone dings*

Text message: _Y’all fucking?_

*blep*

 

**No but seriously Confused! Frank tho**

Hazel: Hey, Frank, you remind me a lot of Arion.

Frank: Why do I remind you of Arion

Frank: please explain

Hazel: *grinning* because I want to ride you all night long

*silence*

Frank: Hazel you can’t ride me

Frank: I’m not a pegasus

Frank: Or any other form of transportation for that matter

Hazel: *facepalm*

 

*blep*

**TAKING BIRD FACTS AND APPLYING THEM TO ANGELS**

_“Birds should be petted around the head only. Petting down the neck and over the back, as well as on the undersides of the wings, is considered sexual foreplay to a bird, which in turn can lead to frustration and serious behavioral issues.”_

 

Jason: Yo can I touch your wings

Percy: Yeah but-

Jason: *rubbing undersides* wow cool theyre really soft

Michael: *walks in and drops everything he’s holding*

Michael: WHAT THE FUCK

 

\----Ω----

 

_“Birds of all breeds are messy. Therefore, if someone always wants a spotless home, a parrot may not be the right type of pet.”_

Leo: *to Frank and Hazel* WHY THE FUCK ARE ALL THESE FEATHERS HERE

Frank: we were too lazy to pick them up

Hazel: we would, but that's too much work

Leo: fUCKING sHIT

 

\----Ω----

 

_“The chicken is the closest living relative to the Tyrannosaurus Rex.”_

Annabeth: I CANT STAND U PERCY

Percy: U WANNA FITE

Annabeth: *angry tyrannosaurus rex sounds*

Percy: * _very_ angry tyrannosaurus rex sounds*

The humans: wtf

 

\----Ω----

 

_“Owls turn their heads almost 360 degrees but they cannot move their eyes.”_

*in the throne room*

Chiron: I dare you to say Percy is a lint-licker

Zoë: No! Annabeth is right in front of us!

Chiron: I _double dog dare you_

Zoë: *grinning* Fine, fine

Zoë: *leans in dramatically*

Zoë: *whispers* Percy is a lint-licker

Them: *giggling*

Annabeth: *head does a one eighty* heard u was talking shit

Chiron: fuCK

 

\----Ω----

 

_“When it comes to birds, the males tend to have the more glamorous feather shape, coloration, songs, and dances.  Female birds choose their mate based on how attractive they find them!”_

Frank: *in bedazzled costume with sequins and glitter*

Frank: *leaps into the living room*

Frank: *drapes himself over Hazel on the couch*

Frank: *eyebrow wiggle*

Hazel: kms

 

\----Ω----

 

_“The common phrase “eat like a bird” should mean something quite different!  Many birds eat twice their weight in food each day.  In fact, a bird requires more food in proportion to its size than a baby or a cat.”_

Jason: HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU EATING ALL THIS FOOD WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

Percy: *wink*

Percy: *unhinges jaw cause he can’t resist that next batch of blue pancakes*

Jason: O H M Y G O D

 

*blep*

 

*Piper comes out of the bathroom with too-long winged eyeliner*

Reyna: you got a little something…

Leo: Wow wing game weak

Percy: Just like Michael’s pullout game *glares*

Everyone: …

Michael: …

Michael: why r u so mean to me

 

*blep*

 

Nico: Eww emotions how do u turn them off

Leo: …

Leo: …

Leo: Okay first u go to settings-

 

*blep*

 

Piper: so is there anything u want for ur birthday

Annabeth: the will to live

 

*blep*

 

If you ever see Percy and Jason together, you’re probably witnessing Percy giving Jason a piggy back ride while Jason tries to get him to fly

 

Jason: Just like a hover

Percy: No

Jason: A light lift off with a breeze

Percy: No

Jason: Then what’s the point of this piggy back ride

Percy: I mean you jumped on my back as we left the palace so I really don’t know

Jason: It’s like you don’t even care about this friendship

 

*blep*

 

Hazel: A moment of silence

Hazel: in loving memory of Nico di Angelo

Frank: hes not dead

Hazel: yeah I know I just like remembering him

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Percy, you are so handsome

Michael: What about meeee? *puppy eyes*

Annabeth: *sighs* and so are you, Michael

 

*blep*

 

**And now: Percy and Jason’s totally no homo bro moments**

 

Percy: bro are u the sun

Jason: no bro why would u ask that

Percy: because my heart melts whenever Im around you bro

Jason: …

Jason: bro

 

\----Ω----

 

Jason: bro do u wanna see art

Percy: Sure bro

Jason *holds up phone*

Percy: bro that’s the camera on selfie mode

Jason: because ur art, bro

Percy: brooooo

 

\----Ω----

 

Jason: Bro can u go to the grocery store

Percy: No

Jason: why bro

Percy: Because ur all I need, bro

Jason: _bro_

\----Ω----

 

Percy: Bro why are all the lights off

Jason: Because u are my light bro

Percy: …bro

 

\----Ω----

 

Percy: *looks Jason in the eyes*

Percy: *grabs Jason’s shoulders*

Percy: *deep breath*

Percy: I brolieve in you

Jason: BRO

 

*blep*

 

Leo (to Calypso): the Dead Sea is the saltiest thing on earth

Leo: next to your bitch ass

Calypso: …

Calypso: the fuck u say

Leo: I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

 

*blep*

 

Reyna’s evil clone: *pointing to real Reyna* shoot HER, she’s the clone

Piper: *aims at the clone* the REAL Reyna would never pass up an opportunity to die

 

*blep*

 

Frank *to cashier*: Do they sell “congrats on losing your virginity” cards I’m getting one for my friend Percy

Cashier: Um…um…I guess

Frank: do they come in gay

 

*blep*

 

Percy: OH NO LUCIFERS GONNA KILL US

Annabeth: WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO

Michael: don’t worry guys I got this

Michael *stamps feet to reveal light-up sketchers*

Lucifer: holy shit

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: Every time I see your face I want to punch something

Octavian: …

Reyna: Preferably you

 

*blep*

 

Solangelo children: Holy fucking shit

Will: Nico, what the actual fuck. You taught our innocent children to fucking swear I can’t fucking believe you. w h a t t h e _f u c k_ N i c o

Nico: …………..

 

*blep*

 

Rachel: 4/20 BLAZE IT

Frank: I’ve never smoked marijuana. I ate a brownie once at a party. It was intense. It was kind of indescribable, actually. I felt like I was floating. It turns out there wasn't any pot in the brownie it was just an insanely good brownie.

Rachel: …

 

***EXTRA***

 

Raphael: what time is it

Azrael: *checks watch* Umm it’s about 4:20, why?

Michael: BLAZE IT

Uriel: bruh we’re angels we can’t smoke pot 4/20 _praise it_ amirite?

Gabriel: u must be fun at parties

Gabriel: that was sarcastic

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Percy and Michael are like pet fish. You have to constantly feed them, you worry they’re going to die every few seconds, and they have a memory span of five seconds

Michael and Percy: LISTEN HERE

 

*blep*

 

Piper: WHO HURT U

Jason: U wanna list or what

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Hey guys we should play Bop it

Everyone: k

Jason: Imma go first

Bop it: _Twist it_

Bop it: _Turn it_

Bop it: _SACRAFICE A VIRGIN TO THE DARK LORD AND LET THEIR BLOOD RUN ACROSS THE STONES OF THE PALACE_

Everyone: (  ʘ _ ʘ )

Bop it: _Bop it_

 

*blep*

 

Nico: No homo

Will: Full homo

Nico: …

Nico: aight

 

*blep*

 

I feel that Michael is the kind of guy to (unhelpfully) make things more intense than they actually are

 

Michael: *aggressively lip-syncs I Write Sins Not Tragedies*

Michael: *aggressively makes breakfast*

Michael: *aggressively plays with Iapetus*

Michael: *aggressively gets dressed*

Michael: *aggressively kisses Percy goodbye*

Michael: *aggressively signs paper for a trampoline room in the palace*

Michael: *aggressively sits on his throne*

Michael: …

Michael: …

Michael: Percy I’m totally chill right

Percy: *to Iapetus* Papa is such a dumb bitch sometimes amirite?

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: the bags under my eyes are designer

 

*blep*

 

Nico: babe get ready for a night on the town I just found an old Subway gift card and it still has $9.45 left on it

Will: …

 

*blep*

*based on Supernatural with Jimmy Novak and Castiel*

 

Percy: Hey Jason

Jason: Yeah, Perce?

Percy: I need you to prove your faith

Jason: um okei??

Percy: U see that boiling pot of water over there?

Jason: Ya

Percy: Dip your hand into it

Jason: bruh

Percy: Do it, Jason

Jason: …

Percy: Do it for the vine

 

*blep*

 

Frank: what’s ur greatest weakness

Hazel: I’m uncooperative

Frank: k give me an example

Hazel: No

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: Okay guys cmon we need to think straight

Percy and Michael: well shit bye then

Annabeth: I SWEAR TO GOD NOW IS NOT THE TIME

 

*blep*

 

The Metatron: *scribing tablet* There are three stages of life for mortals

The Metatron: Birth

The Metatron: what the fuck is this

The Metatron: and Death

Will: PREACH

 

*blep*

 

Percy: dating a smart girl is pretty fucking lit until you get into an argument and she has a 10 page essay and PowerPoint explaining why she’s right and you’re wrong

 

*blep*

 

Nico: you’re perfect in every way

Will: what

Nico: I said you’re TERRIBLE AND PROBABLY GAY, WILLIAM!!!

Nico: *under his breath* pls be at least a lil gay

 

*blep*

 

Person: Your uber is here

Person: Is that you in the middle of the street

Reyna: Yeah

Reyna: Floor it

 

*blep*

 

Dispatcher: 911 what is your emergency

Percy: My wife’s going into labor, I don’t know what to do

Dispatcher: Is this the first child she’s had?

Percy: No this is her husband

Annabeth: kms

 

*blep*

 

Nico: U are the best and coolest guy that I have ever known

Nico: But no homo

Will: Yes homo

Nico: Maybe a lil homo

Will: HELLA HOMO

 

*blep*

 

Dispatcher: 911 what is ur emergency

Rachel: Help my shampoo says ‘damage repair’ but I’m still dead on the inside

Dispatcher: *sheds single tear* I feel u

 

*blep*

 

Percy and Annabeth’s relationship be like

Annabeth: hoe don’t do it

Percy: *does it*

Annabeth: oh my god

 

*blep*

 

Nico: Listen, son, if there really was a monster under ur bed this would be a huge new discovery and honestly u getting mauled would be pretty insignificant to the grand scheme of things if u think about it.

Tobias: *lip wobbles*

Will: *scoops Tobias up* heE doESN’T meAN iT rIGHT sweETHEART

Nico: *sweats nervously*

 

*blep*

 

Calypso: Hey I genuinely care about u and like u a lot

Leo: ?? ? time for a joke??? make joke??? yes??

 

*blep*

 

Percy: Idk my relationship with Jason is always either “yo I’ll help u hide a body” or “do not even breathe in my direction” and there is no in between

Jason: Preach

 

*blep*

 

Nico: Ur cute

Will: _Ur_ cute

Nico: Ur cuter

Will: …

Will: listen here u little shit

 

*blep*

 

Piper: Percy, what’s Michael doing?

Percy: He’s trying to climb our Christmas tree

Percy: He wants to be on top

Percy: *scowling* as usual

Piper: y do u do this I did not need to know that

 

*blep*

 

Giel: Is this ur phone

Jason: Plz no

Giel: And that’s Percy’s number

Jason: srsly

Giel: ooh emoticons

Jason: DO NOT SEND THE EGGPLANT EMOJI DO NOT SEND THE EGGPLANT EMOJI DO NOT SEND THE EGGPLANT EMOJI DO NOT SEND THE EGGPLANT EMOJI DO NOT

 

*blep*

 

Random mortal to Michael when they see him and Percy holding hands: whoa whoa whoa *hands him a copy of the bible*

Michael: *signs it and hands it back * always nice to meet a fan

Percy: I’M MARRIED TO A LITTLE BITCH PLZ HELP

 

*blep*

Nico: No bro this isn’t a date listen bro

Nico: it’s bruhnch

Will: *stares into the camera like the Office*

 

*blep*

 

Zoë: And now for a story

Zoë: ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the palace

Zoë: Percy and Michael are going at it

Zoë: Right now in the kitchen

Zoë: and I just really want a sandwich

 

*blep*

 

Reyna: guys but Lilith means night creature :) so :) I :) guess :) this :) dusty :) ass :) ho :) is :) gonna :) be :) a :) problem :) :) :)

 

*blep*

 

Percy: He was Jesus for Halloween and I definitely got on my knees and gave praise

Michael: *sexy eyebrow wiggle*

Leo: Plz guys stAHP

 

*blep*

 

Jason: Babe come over

Percy: I can’t my mind is being manipulated by Lucifer and he’s forcing me to be his mate

Jason: My parents aren’t home

Percy: Your parents died years ago

Jason: …

Jason: ro0d

 

*blep*

 

Jason: I want Piper to lay her hands on me

Jason: Not in a dirty way, in a “heal me so I’m not in pain anymore” way

Jason: And then maybe in a dirty way if she’s into that

Percy: …

Percy: y tho

 

*blep*

 

Nico: I don’t have a “type”. If I like you, I like you

Nico: And if I like you, you’re pretty special

Nico: Because everyone here is a fucking moron

Percy: WELL IF YOU DON’T HAVE A TYPE…

Nico: *headdesk*

 

*blep*

 

Leo: have a good day because you deserve it!

Leo: and if someone tries to ruin your mood…

Leo: **BURN THEM**

Calypso: now wait just a second

 

*blep*

 

Annabeth: I may be trash but I’m high quality trash. Premium trash. Grade A trash. The kind of trash your mom would look at and say “should this be recycling?” Yeah I’m that kind of trash.

Michael: Preach

 

*blep*

 

Michael: *to Lucifer* I came out here to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.

Lucifer: I came out to attack people and I’m honestly having such a good time right now.

Michael: …

Michael: bruh

 

*blep*

 

So if God created all angels that means Lucifer and Piper are brother and sister. And if Asmodeus is Lucifer’s son then…

 

*the Bachelor*

Asmodeus: Jason will you accept this rose

Jason: god no I’m hella in love with your aunt

Piper: Aw babe so romantic

Asmodeus: …

Asmodeus: …

Asmodeus: This is mildly disturbing

 

*blep*

 

**Suburban! Michael/Percy & Percabeth**

 

Annabeth: Get that fake Tupperware out of my sight, Carol, it’s a fucking monstrosity

 

\----Ω----

 

Percy: I didn’t see you at the last PTA meeting. What do you have to say for yourself, Jennifer?

 

\----Ω----

 

Annabeth: Get out of my fucking business, Elaine, you should stop worrying about me and start worrying about the fact that your husband is fucking his secretary

 

\----Ω----

 

Percy: Goodbye, Barbara. No, I don’t care that I’m being rude. Now I can see why your son didn’t make it into the gifted program.

 

\----Ω----

 

Michael: No, Doris, I don’t think 50 Shades of Grey is a good choice for this month’s book club, get some fucking taste Daddammit.

 

\----Ω----

 

Guy: You shouldn’t be entering the gardening contest, it’s not fair

Michael: You can suck my ass, Bernard

 

\----Ω----

 

Guy: I accidentally kicked your dog today

Percy: Donald I think u should go to Hell

 

\----Ω----

 

Annabeth: U better shut up or imma throw a fucking casserole in your face, Linda

 

\----Ω----

 

*on the phone*

Michael: You know what you have to do when you get home

Percy: *grinning* Yeah I’m going to get down on my knees, unzip your pants and-

Michael: No what tf are u talking about we have to bake cookies for the bake sale

Michael: Betty’s burnt-ass brownies are GOING DOWN

Percy: Calm down, Mike

Michael: Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!

Michael: SUCK IT, BETTY

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so that just happened. That was by far the most fun chapter to write ever.
> 
> Disclaimer: Most of this content is not my own it’s from vines and I just replaced the names and context with Percy Jackson/Black Feathers characters. I also don’t own PJO either, or the fandoms that I referenced in this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE REVIEW YOUR FAVORITE SNIPPET
> 
> My personal favorite is the one with Michael’s Sketchers.


End file.
